Resilience
by Dread Pirate Rinja
Summary: In which Hitsugaya Toushirou confirms that some things truly are best left behind locked doors. Manga–based, divergent storyline. Insurgence Arc 2.
1. Part I

_Disclaimer: Bleach is Kubo Tite-y goodness. I do not own any characters or settings associated with Bleach. Although I'd love to own Hitsu-chan…_

… _but I think after all I'd put him through, he'd try to kill me. -sob-_

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_Warnings: language, violence, Hitsu-whumping (of the mental and physical kind, in later chapters), SPOILERS up to current manga chapters_

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_I still blame Kellen for this. XD It's _mostly _her fault I have so many Hitsugaya plot bunnies!_

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**Resilience**  
_Bleach_

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"_You have a very interesting past, young Shinigami. I didn't know that Captains could retain the memory of their lives as human beings…_

"_I wonder what Captain Yamamoto would have to say if he knew that you still had these here." _

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'_Isn't it hard to keep secrets from yourself?' _

'_You seem to do it quite well, Toushirou. But there are some things that are better left behind locked doors.'_

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_**Part I**_

If Matsumoto were to choose a word to describe the taichou's current mood, she would have to say _crabby_. Or generally sulky. No, in reality, he was _incredibly _peevish, which put him in a _very _ill-tempered mood. Yes, it would be more like that, she decided. It sounded more like him. As much as she wanted to tease him over it just out of spite – hey, she had feelings, too – she could tell by the dark circles slowly forming under his eyes that she shouldn't take him personally. Something was bothering him and causing him to lose sleep, but he clearly didn't want to talk to _her_ about it at the moment. Oh, no, of _course _not.

"You didn't have to insult me," she muttered as she slammed the kettle on the stovetop a little harder than she'd intended. "You could have asked me nicely if you wanted tea, and I would have happily done it for you. 'Matsumoto, darling, would you mind getting me some tea?'" She clasped her hands together in front of her mockingly, batting her eyes as she mimicked the young taichou's voice. "See? That's not so mean. 'Matsumoto, shut the _hell_ up, do some paperwork yourself, or get me some tea. Just do _something _so that you're not so uselessly lazy.' _That _was uncalled for. If you want to take out your frustration, do it on somebody else."

"Um… Matsumoto-san?" a meek voice said behind her quietly, causing her to jump.

She turned quickly and plastered a smile on her face to hide the frown she'd been carrying. "Orihime-chan! Ah, I'm sorry – I didn't hear you come in!"

"Is everything alright?" the girl asked, approaching the fukutaichou warily, like one would with a cornered animal.

Matsumoto grunted, smile fading, jig up. "Peachy," she snapped back. "Just peachy."

Orihime was quiet, and for a moment, Matsumoto felt a tad guilty. She sighed, some of the anger bleeding off. It wasn't Orihime's fault that the captain was being crabby. But before she could say an apology, Orihime spoke first.

"You know, I don't think Hitsugaya-taichou means to take it out on you."

Matsumoto whirled on the younger girl. How long had she been listening? "What?"

"Hitsugaya-taichou… he… he looks a little tired, and I was thinking… Tatsuki – my friend from school – she gets really grouchy when she doesn't get sleep. Maybe he's the same way," Orihime added uncertainly, tapping her two forefingers together nervously in front of her.

For a moment, Matsumoto gaped at the girl until she caught herself. Straightening herself, the fukutaichou nodded slowly. Of course; she knew the taichou hadn't been sleeping well of late, and that he was still dealing with the fallout from… from the nasty parasite-Hollow that had attacked his mind two months ago. It seemed so far away, considering all that had happened since then. Like another skirmish with the Arrancar, in which they had managed – barely – to come out victorious. And like Aizen's attempt to kidnap Orihime during the battle, and then Hitsugaya's subsequent orders to keep her under close watch. Yamamoto-taichou's orders, in case Aizen came after Orihime again later; at least she would have some immediate protection in the form of Hitsugaya and his small subordinate team currently stationed in the mortal realm.

Yeah, maybe he was just tired.

"Matsumoto-s—?"

"Would you please quit calling me that? You make me feel like an old woman. I told you it's Rangiku-chan," Matsumoto chided gently. Orihime started to sputter and apologize, but Matsumoto cut her off by putting an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry about me; I'll get over it. But… thank you," she added quietly, with a serious – but sincere – smile.

Orihime hesitated at first, but then relaxed and grinned back. But the smile faded into horror as the girl pulled away and rushed over to the stove. Matsumoto stared at her stupidly until she too realized that the kettle she'd placed on the stove for tea was coming close to boiling dry, and then she too dashed to help Orihime.

"Shit," she muttered, snagging the hot pads from above the stove. "I'm sorry, Orihime-chan… I'll get you a new kettle if I burned this one."

"I think we got it just in time," Orihime said, relieved.

Matsumoto peered into the metal mouth of the kettle, then noticed a hint of a sparkle as the small hole of light reflected off the water. Sighing, she placed tea leaves in Hitsugaya's favorite mug. Orihime smiled kindly and turned to leave the kitchen.

"Orihime-chan?" Matsumoto called after her. She turned. "I do mean it, and I don't think you hear it enough. Thank you."

She blushed lightly and bowed her head slightly. "I'm not really doing anything special."

Matsumoto snorted, knowing otherwise, but Orihime left before she could reply. Turning back to the water and the tea leaves, she decided to let the water cool for a bit before she brewed tea. Otherwise, the tea would be bitter… though it would be kind of fitting, considering the taichou's current mood.

The thought kept her smirking as she later carried a small tray with the steaming mug of Japanese tea and a small biscuit into where Hitsugaya currently kept his "office." However, when she entered the room, she was greatly surprised to see the taichou's head resting on the desk, upper body sprawled out across the paperwork as he slept. He really was just tired, she repeated decidedly, glad to have it confirmed. She gently set down the tray and – after trying to shake Hitsugaya awake with little success – she carefully picked him up much like a small child and took him to the couch and laid him there. Surprised that he didn't even stir during the move, she frowned, taking a closer look. He really must not have had much sleep lately, she realized. His eyelids looked bruised, mottled with blues and purples, and his skin looked a little pale. With another sigh, she decided it'd be best to let him sleep, and deftly flicked the blue sheet she'd been using as a coverlet over his small frame, then turned with a scowl to the mound of unfinished paperwork on the desk.

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'_Isn't it hard to keep secrets from yourself?' _

_There was a tunnel, there in the back of the cave, dimly lit with a faintly glowing blue-green light. It had many wooden doors, some old and worn, some new and glistening with fresh finish, signs on each and every one of them. Some of them had locks, others were cracked slightly open, some were simply closed. This closed one read "Captain's Ceremony," and the locked one next to it "After-Party." Both were only a small fraction of the way down the never-ending tunnel, but just beyond the closed door that read "Rebirth," there was a thick panel of clouded ice that blocked off the back end of the passage. It was just transparent enough to prove that the tunnel went further, though anything that touched the ice wall froze. Except him, of course – he was the one who put it there in the first place, in order to safeguard something both so precious and terrifying that he didn't dare allow it to be erased. _

_This did not explain the crack in the wall that he saw, now, as he stood before it. With a frown, he reached out hesitantly with two fingers, traced the fissure slowly. It wasn't that new, but somehow he didn't quite remember seeing it before. As he turned to find the dragon, he heard the sharp crack, and even as he hoarsely called out to Hyourinmaru with eyes wide in shock, he barely had time to cover his face with his arms as the ice shattered, sounding like a thousand tiny charms blowing gently in the breeze, the roaring, chilling blast of wind hitting him in the face and blowing open all the doors behind the destroyed wall. His eyes widened as ghosts followed, coming towards him with arms outstretched, calling him that name he hadn't wanted to hear ever again…bringing back a pain that he had been long forgotten._

_He screamed._

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With a startled yelp, Hitsugaya sat up quickly, open hand grasping for air. The blue bedclothes were tangled about his legs, and he panted heavily, shuddering when he felt a trickle of cold sweat down his back. _Just a dream… just another dream_, he told himself, taking several deep breaths to control his breathing and trying to slow his pounding heart. Suddenly coming to himself, he realized he was still in the room he'd converted into a small office, and noticed that he was on the couch. With a frown, he realized he didn't remember going to the couch, but as he glanced over at the desk and saw Matsumoto sprawled across the paperwork, he had to allow himself a small smile as he realized what happened. Even after he'd snapped at her; he hadn't meant to, really. 

However, the smile faded as he tried to move to stand up. Ghost pain flared in his chest, and he winced, grasping the shirt at his chest with one hand and hesitating for a moment. He pulled the hand away and looked down, seeing nothing but his own skin on the palm of his hand. No blood, no cuts lining his arms. Not like the last time, though it had caused him to fear his dreams a little more. Grunting, he took a deep breath and forced himself to get off the couch, as much as his tired body groaned at him. He'd had some trouble sleeping lately – these stupid nightm—_dreams_ were ruining any sort of deep rest he could hope to achieve. He wondered why they hadn't bugged him before, especially after the incident that most likely sparked them. The damn parasitic Hollow.

This whole situation was getting out of control. He would be no help to guard against any more of Aizen's attempts to get Orihime if he was in this state. Perhaps it would do him some good to go meditate; spend time with Hyourinmaru, and make sure that his dreams were simply just that – bad dreams and nothing more. Snagging the sheet off the couch, he flipped it across Matsumoto's shoulders as he walked by. She stirred slightly, mumbling something he couldn't catch, causing him to grin just a little as he walked out to the porch and sat. He had considered the roof as a decent place to get some quiet, but for as tired as he was, the porch would do.

Closing his eyes, he made sure he was leaning against the wall before he took a deep breath and let the city noises fade to the background while he drifted.

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Cold walls and a soft, deep breathing noise greeted Hitsugaya inside the familiar cave. For a moment, he sat quietly and just listened, watching the dragon rest and enjoying the quiet that meditation here brought him. This place was far more enjoyable when he came here simply to think things through, rather than having to fight to maintain control over his own mind. Hyourinmaru had since become much easier to hear and connect with since then, on the other hand. The dragon – even in its resting state – was watching him as well, and both seemed to draw from the simplicity of spending a moment in peace. 

"You're troubled," Hyourinmaru commented in his deep-throated voice after a moment, breaking the silence. "I was expecting you sooner."

Hitsugaya looked down at his hands, which sat folded in his lap. "I know. It's… sometimes, it's just harder to come here after… _that_."

The dragon murmured in agreement, and then said, "But we both know that that isn't the issue now."

Shaking his head, Hitsugaya stood slowly. "I came here to check on something. Just to make sure."

"I know." The dragon bowed slightly, and watched as Hitsugaya began walking towards the back of the cave. "Would you like me to accompany you?"

Hitsugaya paused, but without turning, he replied, "It's alright for now."

"Call on me if you need me."

With a curt nod, Hitsugaya walked into the mouth of an exit at the end of the cave, leading down a dark tunnel. He felt a little bare without having the dragon behind him for support, but he knew he needed to do this on his own. Just this time. And he didn't want to have Hyourinmaru see how worried he'd been about it, because that would mean that he didn't trust the dragon to protect what was back there.

The dim blue-green light from the tunnel's walls cast a horrifyingly familiar feeling, causing Hitsugaya to shudder slightly as he passed the marked doors. Sometimes, that dream was too real for him to ignore the resemblance between it and reality. The wrong doors were closed in the dream, and there more doors in reality. After a long walk, he finally found his way to the ice panel at the end of the first section of tunnel. He couldn't help it; he held his breath before he could muster the courage to look at the ice. He wasn't sure if… if he would see what he was hoping to see, and that the dream had been true. But when he finally looked at the ice, nothing was out of order. Frowning, he leaned in closer, examining the panel from top to bottom, before he let himself release the breath he'd been holding onto.

_Nothing. See? It was just a dream, you idiot,_ he scolded himself. _Stop doubting yourself so much._

Feeling much more relieved, he turned away from the ice, and began to walk away. However, when he heard a quiet but distinct crackling noise, he whirled. _Pop._ _Crackle._ A line streaked across the ice, appearing from nowhere.

_Shit._

"Hyourinmaru!"

He could feel the dragon's presence approaching, but not before he heard another distinct crack, and panic swelled in his chest as small bits of memory seeped through the fissures.

A small fishing village. A large temple, and many people swarming about its gates. Delicate silk cloth with intricate patterns. Something sharp. Yamamoto-taichou's voice above him, saying something about being reborn in Seireitei with white hair symbolizing…

_'Toushirou, stop!'_

And he did. Before he realized that he could actually see Hyourinmaru approaching, the dragon wrapped itself around him, and suddenly the memories faded as his mind was forced from the cave with painful abruptness.

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_**.notes.**_

Taichou --_ the Japanese equivalent of a Captain (I used Captain in __"Endurance" but decided to change it for this story)  
_Seireitei --_ I don't know what the new English version calls it, but it's basically the center part of Soul Society where the Shinigami (Death Gods or Reapers or whatever) dwell._

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_Quick note. This is a direct sequel of "Endurance," my only other Bleach multi-chapter fiction at the moment. This particular story will be a great deal longer and more complex than__ "Endurance"__ was. While I'd like to think that you don't need to have read the prequel to understand this story, the more I plan this one out, the more necessary the events in __"Endurance" have become to make this story work__. I don't doubt Kubo Tite-sensei's abilities, but in order to make several my ideas mesh together logically, I took some artistic liberties with where this story fits in._


	2. Part II

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and his friends at Jump Comics. Not mine._

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_Warnings: language, violence, Hitsu-whumping, SPOILERS up to current manga chapters_

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_There are some strong references to the events in _Endurance_ starting in this chapter. You might want to have read that first if you really want to understand what's going on here. The plot is continuous, I promise!  
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_**Part II**_

Hitsugaya woke suddenly to find that he was being jostled, moving along in someone's arms, his face pressed up against a soft mound of flesh. But before he could gripe at Matsumoto to get her boob out of his face, he realized that her heartbeat was pounding rapidly against his cheek, and that she was shouting for Orihime. And his head _hurt_. The realization caused him to groan briefly before he could catch himself, and suddenly Matsumoto stopped, looking down at him with wild panic in her eyes.

_Don't you do this to me again!_ they said, shining with worry, before she frowned and pressed a hand to his forehead and hissed, running again.

He frowned back, trying to say something, but couldn't think of the words. Rather confused at why he was being carried in such a hurry, and why she was so worried. She seemed to catch on to his confusion, and he felt her voice rumble against his ear as she spoke.

"You've got a bad fever, Taichou. I found you passed out cold on the deck," she said quietly, breathlessly. "I want to have Orihime see if she can figure out what's wrong with you, but if she finds nothing, I'm calling Unohana."

Ah, so that's what she was worried about. The last time, with the parasite-Hollow, the whole nasty ordeal had begun with a fever before it escalated into something much worse. She didn't want _that _to happen again. He wanted to tell her that he was fine and to put him the _hell_ down, but before he could speak, sharp pain dug into his skull; he groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt Matsumoto tense against him, but she said nothing more. After that, he stayed content to keep his eyes shut and rest against his fukutaichou, trusting her to not hurt him. A few moments later, and the jostling stopped. He felt himself being lowered carefully to something considerably soft, and felt a cold something placed across his forehead. He also heard whispered voices, but didn't care to discern what they were saying just yet. For now, he concentrated on willing the invisible claw grasping his brain to ease its grip.

He wasn't sure how, but somehow he managed to drift off without actually dreaming. Instead of finding himself in the cave, as he'd expected, his mind was a blank world of gray, with the occasional smattering of broken voices and cool hands breaking through the fog. For the time being, he let himself stay in the world of nothingness; it was peacefully relaxing. It didn't seem that long had passed before he finally became aware of the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and somebody snoring beside him. Slowly finding his way through the fog, he blinked a few times before he realized he'd opened his eyes. Reality swam into focus, and it was then that he learned he was on a futon – all too familiar – and that Matsumoto was draped across his feet, sleeping soundly.

Reaching to his head, his hand closed around a damp cloth draped across his forehead. He pulled it off and sat up slowly, grunting, his head feeling much heavier than it should. But nothing was hurting, and he felt fine otherwise. Part of him wanted to lay back down and go back to sleep, but he knew he probably had work to finish, if he'd been sleeping long. Looking down, he sighed; it would be a challenge – no, it would have to be luck – trying to figure out how to untangle his legs from under Matsumoto without waking her.

With one small movement, she groaned and shifted. Yep, luck, of which he had none.

"Taichou?" she asked groggily, pushing herself upright and yawning largely as she spoke. Scratching her head absentmindedly, she regarded him with a sleepy grin when she suddenly came fully awake, eyes flying open wide. "Taichou! You're awake! Are you alright? How are you feeling?"

He blinked owlishly once before the memory came trickling back. He'd briefly been awake earlier with a nasty headache and… Matsumoto had told him a fever as well. _What the hell had that been about?_

"Much better," he replied, grunting as he pulled himself off of the futon and straightened the front of his disheveled uniform. "How long was I out?"

Matsumoto sighed, but she looked relieved. "Three, four hours, I'd say. Your fever spiked suddenly and went away just as fast, even before Orihime could get here."

"Huh." Hitsugaya frowned as he pulled on his white captain's cloak – which had been neatly folded next to the futon – but then shook his head. To be honest with himself, he really wasn't in the mood to bring an older, nastier thought into the conversation, and instead used his favorite tactic. "Maybe it was just a bug."

Diversion. "Maybe." Matsumoto got the hint, though she frowned back at him disapprovingly. "But to be on the safe side, you should take it easy. You're working a lot lately."

"You're telling me," Hitsugaya replied as he stalked out of the room, eyeing the door to the kitchen. Perhaps a cup of good, strong tea would help him shake the groggy feeling that still lingered as though he'd been drugged asleep. He sensed Matsumoto coming behind him; she just wasn't going to leave him alone. She was worried again, and he hated it. "Where did you put the black tea leaves?" he called behind him, rooting through the wood-paneled pantries.

"Top of the fridge, in a basket with the other teas," Matsumoto replied.

_No freaking way. _Hitsugaya looked up and scowled. Nope, no luck at all. God, how humiliating; he wouldn't even be able to reach it on his tiptoes. And he'd be damned if he would ask Matsumoto to grab them for him, since he'd never hear the end of it for weeks, especially if Renji or Ikkaku caught word of it. Back tingling, he was sure Matsumoto had a smirk plastered across her face as she watched his shoulders tense. She knew exactly what the problem was, and she was enjoying watching him suffer. _Jerk. _

"Need help?" she asked coyly, but he caught the smirk in her tone of voice.

"Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Not really."

"Paperwork."

"Besides that."

He rolled his eyes, but let it go. She wouldn't do the paperwork now even if she wasn't amusing herself at his expense. With a grunt, he pushed himself up on his tiptoes, fingers wiggling at the top of the fridge searching for the basket holding his much-needed tea. Behind him, he heard a sigh, and a soft padding of feet and rustling of cloth when suddenly Matsumoto was beside him, deftly reaching up and snagging the basket before she handed it to him. He scowled again and snatched the basket. She grinned.

"You could always say 'Thank you,' you know," she said innocently.

Hitsugaya resisted the urge to growl at her; instead, he looked away. "Thank you," he mumbled grudgingly, letting the running water from the faucet drown out his apology. Mostly.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anybody," she stated solemnly. But no, there – he caught a slight smirk.

_This is blackmail. _"Fine, you can have the afternoon off," he snapped, not in the mood to deal with it.

The blonde fukutaichou smiled. "Thank you, Taichou," she said sweetly before she whipped around and began to walk away.

Once she was out of sight, he grinned victoriously and plunked the tea bag into the cup of boiling hot water. She thankfully hadn't brought that afternoon's events up again. He wasn't sure he wanted to revisit that just yet, but he knew it'd come sooner or later. For now, though, he managed to maintain the quiet. _I win this round, Matsumoto._

But even he knew that this small triumph was only skin deep, and even a simple evasive maneuver wouldn't be enough help him in his sleep.

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Matsumoto made it all the way to the end of the hall smirking before she remembered – smirk disappearing, in all its vengeful glory – that she had just spent most of that afternoon trying to keep Hitsugaya-taichou's sudden fever down to healthier levels. He shouldn't even be up and about like that yet, not after he'd scared her that badly again. The sound of his bones snapping and his bubbling pants from the prior months' dealings with the parasitic Hollow still haunted her; she shuddered even at the thought of it. God, and he had acted as if nothing had happened. He'd baited her, and she fell for it – hook, line, and sinker. 

_That little twit._

She had been so worried about him, too… and this was how he repaid her. It almost made her angry, but for a moment, she remembered that sometimes the taichou just needed to spend time alone after something unexplained happen. It was one of the things she had learned to keep in mind during her time spent as his second. He needed the time to sit down and think this thing through, and either he would come up with answers, or he would find nothing – but at least his mood would improve either way.

This time, she would let it go. But it didn't stop her from sending a message to Unohana about the whole ordeal that afternoon, just to be on the safe side. After the last incident had nearly cost Hitsugaya's life, she wasn't about to take chances if this had anything to do with her taichou's mind. Even she was unable to tell if Hitsugaya had managed to pull the pieces of his nearly-shattered mind back into their proper places after the Hollow had smashed things up.

But at least he wasn't dealing with the memory lapses, she told herself in a half-hearted attempt to banish the worry. And he seemed to be in much better spirits after he had nearly taken down the last Arrancar that came across their paths… that was, before it fled. Even then, Hitsugaya had seemed much more guarded than usual. He sensed something was up, and she also had learned to unconditionally trust the taichou's instincts, regardless of the fact that she didn't have all the details.

Hitsugaya was onto something, and she wasn't going to get in the way if she could help it. If things got worse, she would always be there to support him and make sure he didn't get into trouble – like last time. No way would she allow that to happen again. Not on her watch.

With a sigh, she trudged into the office, refraining from the strong temptation to go back and chide him for his attempt to trick her. She'd let him win this round. In the meantime, she had papers to stare at, and a nap to take while she was at it. The couch looked awfully inviting.

* * *

_Sweat trickles down grime-coated skin, soothing against the searing heat of the welding fire. The mallet – too heavy in his hands – hangs loosely at his side, body and mind injured and weary from recent events. They are going to come to him, with one of theirs now dead. He knows it will happen the way he knew as soon as he saw the man fall in a spray of his own blood. It won't matter that he nearly died as well, and he hasn't even done anything wrong. Before they even arrive, he can see the unit captain's wide, cruel grin. The man has a chilling, haunting presence, and is so out of place._

_Except this time, he knows the face under another name. One that he will never utter again without the utmost contempt._

_'Toushirou.'_

_No, that isn't his name here, but it is_ _him all the same. And as the fire's light dims, a blast of wind so icy that it nearly takes his breath away replaces the white-hot heat. Suddenly, the memory fades and he faces a dragon with steely green eyes filled with a resolve deeper than anything he's ever seen. He knows that this isn't a path he can take just yet._

_And yet he also knows that he won't be able to avoid it when the time comes._

* * *

"Ran-chan, you know I didn't mean it that way!" 

Matsumoto shoved Renji aside with a glare as she made her way back over to the desk, a stack of completed paperwork in hand ready to be dropped into Hitsugaya's inbox. Once she'd done just that, she whirled to face Renji, glare still wrinkling the corners of her eyes.

"You know, that isn't any of your concern – and besides, you were spying. It's not like you had the whole story down," she scoffed, folding her arms across her chest angrily. "I can't believe you assumed that we were—"

"No, I swear I didn't mean it like that," Renji interrupted, waving his hands defensively in front of him. "I just noted that you were pretty upset over him getting sick again. Trust me; I was _there_. I understand why you got so uptight about it. All I was saying was that you should relax a bit. He's obviously okay for now."

Matsumoto sighed, arms falling down to her sides loosely. She wasn't really up for arguing with Renji over something that really wasn't an issue. Besides, Renji _had_ been there when the parasitic Hollow had nearly taken down the young taichou. Maybe she was just irritated over the fact that Hitsugaya had given her the slip, she'd fallen for it, and then Renji had interrupted her nap with a snarky comment.

That was likely the case, considering her current mood.

"Here, want to go out for a drink?" Renji offered, motioning towards the door with a thrust of his thumb over his shoulder. "My treat."

It would be relaxing; besides, she needed it, and Hitsugaya _had_ technically given her the afternoon off. "Only if you're treating," she said with a sly smirk.

Renji laughed and motioned her to follow him out the door. However, when they'd barely set foot outside the premises, Matsumoto suddenly stopped. The air was off, and when she realized what exactly was wrong, she shot Renji a wide-eyed look and quickly turned back to the complex, Renji just behind her.

"Was that—?" Renji began to ask, but Matsumoto cut him off with a nod. "God, this can't be happening again."

Matsumoto didn't reply, though the same thought had been rushing through her mind. Somehow, though, this was different, and she wasn't sure yet if that was such a good thing. At least, until that presence in the air exploded and both fukutaichou fell to their knees just inside the door. Completely different from last time, and far worse.

Hitsugaya wouldn't be allowed to talk his way out of this one this time around.

* * *


	3. Part III

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and his friends at Jump Comics. Not mine._

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_Warnings: language, violence, Hitsu-whumping, _major_ SPOILERS up to current manga chapters_

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_**Part III**_

Images of a time and place he didn't quite remember zipped through his mind at a speed almost too fast for him to make out what was going on. Shattered ice glistened wetly under dim light, but he wasn't even sure where he was, or if he had caused that to happen. He felt as though he was watching his own life through a spectator's eyes, from a removed position… and the person he saw didn't even look that much like him now, but he _knew_ it was him. He just wasn't sure how; at least not yet. But he did know that these images made his body and mind _hurt_, with all kinds of pains that were both so familiar and yet seemingly so distant that he couldn't place his finger on what exactly he was seeing.

Finally, with a swift movement of ice and cold breath, the motion picture of a part of him he didn't seem to know was hidden behind a moving body of frosted scales and glowing green eyes. His own, or Hyourinmaru's – he wasn't sure which. Nothing seemed to be in its right place, and he was lost.

The images flickered out and faded into the dark, and suddenly his body seemed to return from wherever it had wandered off to, the numbness fading and the air becoming more real.

Slowly awakening, he was surprised to find himself swaying. It took him a moment or two of a horrible headache and nauseating dizziness for him to realize that he was on his feet, a position which nobody should _awaken_ to. Stomach lurching, he groaned as he covered his mouth with one hand and grasped out at anything solid to hold himself steady with the other. His back ached, his head pounded, and all he could hear for a few moments was the sound of blood steadily rushing past his ears. Closing his eyes until the dizziness passed and the nausea faded to a manageable level, he suddenly realized that Matsumoto was kneeling in front of him, staring into his eyes intently, grasping his shoulders to keep him steady, and repeating his name several times with a worried tone.

"Hitsugaya-taichou? Hitsugaya-taichou, can you hear me?"

"How is he?" The deep voice belonged to Abarai, he realized slowly.

"Still not responding," Matsumoto whispered back. And again, in that same concerned tone, "Hitsugaya-taichou?"

"I'm calling Unohana-taichou," Renji stated matter-of-factly.

Then it all clicked sharply – painfully – into place. His mind felt almost heavy with all the confusing thoughts and memories that flooded it. Somehow, he knew this wasn't supposed to be happening. And he knew that if Unohana came, he would have to tell her about it. _No,_ he wanted to say, but wasn't sure he had the energy. _She can't come._

"Taichou?" Matsumoto said, relief apparent in her sudden change of tone.

He'd said something aloud; hadn't even realized he had. Forcing his heavy eyelids back open, he blinked away the watery blurriness in his vision and fought back the nausea with several deep breaths. When the world finally swam back into focus, he realized that both Matsumoto and Abarai were staring at him with expectant expressions, waiting to see if he had more to say. The light in the room was bright, and he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut again and pressing his fingers of one hand to the bridge of his nose. Matsumoto tried to steady him again, but he batted her hands away with his free hand.

"Give me a second, and I'll be fine," he replied with a thick voice, but he knew it for the lie that it was. He was scared – if Unohana figured it out, then… _She can't, which is why she can't come._

"Are you sure you don't want us to call Unohana-taichou?" Matsumoto persisted.

He sighed and forced his eyelids open. The dizziness had died down just long enough for him to affix her gaze with an icy, authoritative stare of his own. "Absolutely," he replied evenly, proud that he'd managed to control his tone to mask just how heavily his head was pounding, and how much he really felt he needed to lie down, sift through his own mind to see what the hell had just happened.

Raising a delicate eyebrow, Matsumoto took a deep breath and muttered something under her breath before she said, "Okay, if you're sure… but you're going to tell me what the _hell_ is going on, Taichou."

Hitsugaya grunted. _I'd tell you if I could make sense of it._ But he didn't say it aloud, and instead pretended like he hadn't heard her. She would eventually find out, if this affected his duty in any way. Which it might. Abarai might find out as well, just by association. As it was, the redhead was scrutinizing him warily – disbelievingly – but Hitsugaya knew the man wouldn't question him unless the situation went from bad to worse. For now, at least, it was merely bad.

_Shit. What a mess._

And as if in a divine plan to aggravate him further, he felt the strong reiatsu of Kurosaki approaching, followed by the fainter signature of the younger Kuchiki. Great. Company. Kuchiki probably hadn't missed the strong outburst of his own reiatsu earlier, and he was in no mood to put up with an interrogation session from either. With a grunt, he massaged his eyelids with his fingers again when suddenly a brief image of himself – no, a black-haired, brown-eyed, aged version of himself – greeted him from the back of his eyelids.

"What the _hell_ just happened?" Kurosaki's voice roared as the door slammed open, causing the image to dissipate and brought the attention of all three of the room's occupants to the entrance.

Kuchiki brushed past the towering orange-haired boy into the room, regarding Hitsugaya with wide eyes. She had heard about the previous incident – who hadn't, really – and clearly, she too had concerns for the young taichou. Hitsugaya concentrated on staying on his feet and breathing as she approached, and didn't move when she walked up to him and laid her hand on his forehead. Kurosaki started to protest, but Renji shushed him with a simple hand gesture. Out of the corner of his eye, Hitsugaya watched Matsumoto tense as Kuchiki closed her eyes in concentration. He didn't move; still concentrating on trying to keep up his display of what appeared to be crumbling strength took all the energy he'd need to step away. One silent moment, and Kuchiki opened her eyes again, almost managing to look even more frightened.

"Something's changed," she said quietly, almost as if she'd intended for only Hitsugaya to hear it. "It has something to do with last month's incident, doesn't it?"

If Hitsugaya were to be honest, he really wasn't sure if this had anything to do with last month, though the events coincided all too well. He nearly died at the hands of a mind-breaking Hollow, barely managed to pull himself back together when the Arrancar attacked again and Orihime was nearly taken by Aizen, and now with the coming war, he was starting to shatter again as memories that _shouldn't be there_ were starting to resurface. Either it was a horrendous ill turn of luck and timing, or something was behind all of this.

Aizen. He had to wonder if Aizen was still trying to play with them, as he had last time. They still were unable to figure out what the parasitic Hollow's origin was, or how it was nearly so deadly despite being physically weak. Hitsugaya really didn't like the idea that Aizen was still up to playing games with them, but in order to be realistic he had to consider the idea that this might not be an accident.

"I… I don't know," he replied equally as quietly, looking away.

Rukia's sigh was almost so quiet he didn't catch it, but it was enough to know that she too was worried about the whole situation, especially after she'd inadvertently helped Aizen gain something valuable.

"Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on here?" Kurosaki demanded.

"Ichigo." Kuchiki turned and shot the boy a glare. He looked down and muttered darkly under his breath, but he said nothing more.

"I'm going to go give Unohana-taichou a call," Matsumoto said suddenly, turning to leave the room. Hitsugaya's hand shot out and caught her wrist, and she looked back at him, surprised. He shook his head.

"Don't," he mouthed. She glared, and he glared back. "It isn't necessary, because I'm fine." And to prove a point, he began walking towards the bathroom on his own, proud of himself that he was walking steadily even though he knew his legs were shaking and he still hadn't caught his breath. Too many eyes were on him, and it was stifling; he needed to be alone for a while.

"Hitsugaya-taichou—" Rukia began, but Renji silenced her with a shake of his head.

The silence was deafening, and nobody else moved to stop him. It was just as well, Hitsugaya decided once he'd made it to the bathroom down the hall and shut the door behind him. He braced himself with one hand on each side of the sink and chanced a look into the mirror, shocked to see himself reflected back pale, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. No wonder they'd been worried. With a sigh, he turned on the cold water and splashed it onto his face, but no amount of scrubbing would change the fact that he did not like the fact that his memories – the ones trickling back, at least – were inevitably going to cause a problem that nobody had time to deal with. He knew he'd find answers he wasn't going to be pleased with once all the pieces were back in their proper places.

This time, when he looked back at the mirror, the black-haired version of himself peered uncertainly back at him, shadowed by n all-too-familiar figure with a broad, sinister grin but in the wrong clothing, and suddenly he felt sick. Tearing his eyes away from the reflection, he turned the faucet on full-blast to drown out the noise, whirled around, jerked the toilet seat upright and retched into the toilet.

* * *

"Why didn't you let me stop him?" Rukia hissed, whirling on Renji as soon as they heard the bathroom door close. "Can't you tell that he's—" 

"Rukia." She flinched at his serious tone. "You weren't there the last time. He just needs to do some thinking, so give shorty some space, at least."

And suddenly Ichigo was in Renji's face, growling, "God _damn_ it, Abarai – didn't you _feel_ that? Didn't you _see_ him? Something's wrong with him, and if we don't find out what that is he could… Oh shit, aren't you guys already dead? _Can_ you die?" The young man suddenly looked perplexed, forehead scrunching and eyes looking at some point beyond Renji now as he thought.

Renji groaned at the question. "Of course we can, you idiot. Just… not the way you're thinking."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that once we die as Shinigami, that's it. There's no after-afterlife. I thought you already knew that, though – you saw Aizen's so-called death, right?"

"So if you guys are already dead, then that means you were once alive like I am," Ichigo said, though he was partly asking after something he'd already suspected. Renji nodded – hesitantly, but a confirmation all the same. Ichigo followed suit and hesitated – only a little – before asking quietly, "Do… do you remember—uh, you know…?"

"No," Matsumoto replied this time, looking concernedly down the hall where the sound of running water faintly filtered through the closed door and echoed back up the hall. "At least, we're not supposed to. Our memories are erased when we awaken for the first time in Seireitei."

Ichigo's mouth formed an "o," but he said nothing more, nor did anyone else for a few uncomfortable moments.

"Is he going to be okay?" Ichigo asked uncertainly.

Matsumoto looked away, and Renji shrugged. "He's strong; he wouldn't be a captain otherwise," the redhead replied. "If something's wrong, he'll figure out a way through it. He's done it many times before."

This time Matsumoto flinched, as if the words stung. Renji looked a little sheepish about speaking so offhandedly about the last time Hitsugaya managed to "figure out a way through it." Matsumoto had admitted to him once, while _very_ drunk, that she still had nightmares about the several long nights that Hitsugaya fought with the Hollow attacking his mind, and how wounds had appeared from nowhere on the young taichou's body. She was there when he awoke with a shattered and fragile memory. She'd had to watch the entire ordeal, and she said there were some things – sounds, sights, smells – she would never get over. Later, when he'd asked her about it while she was sober, she said she merely hated the massive amount of paperwork that had resulted from it and laughed it off. He knew better. And he'd just shrugged it off under the "no big deal" category.

_Open mouth, insert foot._

"I'm going to go check on him," Matsumoto said suddenly, standing and fidgeting with the front of the uniform as she made her way down the hall. No indication of hard feelings, but Renji still felt guilty; he'd apologize to her later.

With a flask of hot, strong sake.

"I'm worried about him," Rukia said with a low voice once Matsumoto was out of earshot. "That burst of reiatsu earlier – it was definitely Hitsugaya-taichou's, but… raw. Like it hurt him to release it."

Renji nodded slightly. "Might have."

"What exactly happened two months ago, by the way?" Rukia asked suddenly, the question catching Renji off-guard. "I only got to skim a few reports, but those don't have details."

Renji shuddered, but Rukia deserved to hear the truth, as did Ichigo. Hell, might give them some perspective on the whole thing. So he told them.

* * *

Matsumoto frowned when she got close enough to the door to hear something faint just beyond the sound of running water. It was just like the taichou to hide anything that might potentially be regarded as a weakness, so of course she had to find out if he was alright. Though Renji's smooth – no, more like _insensitive_ estimation of Hitsugaya's abilities had bothered her some, it wasn't the main reason she'd left the room. 

Holding her balled fist up to the door, she bit her lip and hesitated a moment before she firmly rapped on the wood. The other quieter sound seemed to hitch briefly before it stopped altogether. A moment later, and the running water was joined by the sound of a toilet flushing, and then the faucet was silenced.

"Hitsugaya-taichou?" Matsumoto called into the door's crevice uncertainly. "You okay?"

The handle jiggled briefly before it was turned and the door opened a crack, Hitsugaya's icy green eyes – dull and glassy and bloodshot – peering through. Matsumoto tried hard not to wince, really she did.

"Are they gone yet?" Hitsugaya asked quietly, voice raspy.

"They're still down the hall," Matsumoto replied. "Do you need anything?"

A small bitter bark of laughter escaped through the open sliver between the door and its frame. "A time machine and a few heavy-duty sleeping pills," Hitsugaya muttered darkly, almost under his breath.

Matsumoto winced again. He _really_ must not be feeling well if he actually mentioned his discomfort, she decided. He looked haggard.

"You really should go back to sleep. I can clear out the room in the back if you'd like," she offered with a sympathetic furrow of her brows.

Hitsugaya's expression darkened. "No, that's alright. Give me a bit and I'll be fine." And as if to firmly remind Matsumoto that Hitsugaya was prone to overestimating his own condition, the young taichou suddenly gripped his head and groaned, muttering a curse.

"Taichou?" She pushed the door open and took in a full view of the captain as he seemed to practically curl in around himself. Quickly closing both lids on the toilet – damn, had he been sick? – she guided him there and sat him down, squatting down in front of him, staring intently back at him. Patiently, she waited for him to ride out the flash-headache.

"God," he murmured shakily, avoiding her eyes.

"I will call in Unohana-taichou unless you offer me a damn good explanation why I shouldn't," Matsumoto said sternly, but she couldn't muster the anger to glare him down over it. He really didn't look like he would be fine, even with a few hours' rest and a day off.

"Please, don't even threaten that," Hitsugaya said with a defeated sigh.

"Talk to me."

After a brief moment of silence, he finally managed to look her in the eye and said seriously, "I can't."

"Can't, or won't?"

"What difference does it make, Matsumoto?" he snapped back. "Both. Take your pick."

"Taichou…"

"Don't. Just… don't, okay?" He sighed again. "At least… not yet."

At that, Matsumoto raised an eyebrow. "Not yet?"

Hitsugaya pursed his lips, and Matsumoto knew that he'd meant it. She wouldn't get anything out of him at this point – or at this rate – so she let it go, like she did every other time. God, how she hated watching him hurt, seeing that pained, pinched, fragile look about him. He was supposed to be strong. He _was_ strong. But still, Rukia was right; something in him had changed, and she was desperate to find out what it was before it was too late.

He was right, though – he probably had some sorting to do. Part of her worried that it had a great deal to do with his mind, and after the godforsaken _incident_, she knew it could – _would_ – be bad. Until then, however, she would trust him to make the right decisions, and to be courteous enough to tell her before whatever the hell was bothering him came to a point of no return.

* * *

Hitsugaya watched his subordinate leave the room with slumped shoulders and nearly – guiltily – breathed a sigh of relief. He had tried to assuage her worry by letting her help him to a bed, letting her tuck him in and taking the sleeping pills he'd half-jokingly requested. But he also knew that the pills would do little in his sleep when the reality would be distorted by half-truths and emotion-driven recollections of a past he wasn't even entirely sure was his. People were there that shouldn't be, and yet they seemed to continue to show up. And he was damned sure that if his dreams were reality, he had at least one name on his current "to kill" list that was getting bumped up in the numbers. 

Either that grinning bastard had found his way into memories that shouldn't exist anyway only because Hitsugaya hated him for his betrayal, or he hated the traitor because he was somehow involved in the twisted mess that was his previous life on earth. In either scenario, Ichimaru Gin was going to die.

* * *

_**.notes.**_

_I realized after re-reading my own story (trying to clean up a few rough spots that people seem to keep questioning me on) that I didn't clarify a few things. This might be why a few issues are a little confusing, especially concerning Shinigami and their ability to recall their previous lives as humans. In the manga, Soul Society as a whole is split into two 'realms': there is Rukongai, where souls first go after a soul burial (konsou), and then there's Seireitei in the center, where Shinigami - the nobility/elite and Soul Society's primary governing force - dwell. I was very careful with my language use here, as I do know that in Rukongai, it is quite possible for a soul to retain its memories (the best example would be the case with Yuichi Shibata, the boy whose soul took over a canary that Chad protected early on in the series). Canon currently **does not** back my theory on Shinigami actually retaining memories once they enter Seireitei, but canon also currently does not refute said theory (at least not yet; if it ultimately does, then consider this an AU-divergence story). I will further explain how this works in the story; I just haven't gotten there yet. Please be patient. ;D Oh, and please keep in mind that Shinigami **are not Hollows**. They are two completely different things, therefore different rules will apply to each. Well, unless you're Ichigo or a Vaizard in general, who all seem to have some of each. I wanted to make these distinctions, just in case the references were too obscure, and because I've had more than one person question the memories thing so far (another person pointed out Shibata, but called him a Hollow, which - if I recall correctly - he wasn't)._

_One other issue that I realized after I'd done a little further research into the Bleach world is the fact that after Shinigami die, they are reborn as humans, which ties in with the common Japanese belief in reincarnation. I've edited this chapter slightly to include that discovery; I apologize for my previous error on that fact. (I'm also surprised nobody pointed that out to me! Haha.)  
_

_As for questions on pairings (I seemed to have more of those than I'd anticipated)... err... that's a tad harder to answer. While there probably will be undertones of potential relationships (as in 'Endurance'), I haven't actually planned on any outright 'couples', per se. I don't intend to, either - Bleach is not a romance series; it's shounen. That doesn't mean 'Resilience' won't have any undercurrents of romance in it (plenty of hints at HitsuMatsu, HitsuHina, RenjiMatsu, IchiRuki, one-sided HimeIchi, etc.), but it does mean that romance is not the focus. There are more than plenty of romance stories out there, so please don't try the "There's not/never enough of -insert pairing here-" argument, because it won't work, haha. Sorry if that disappoints anyone._

_I also apologize that this is long. I have a tendency to babble, especially if I'm adamant about defending my position on something. I swear that I'm trying my best to make this fit in with canon; Bleach is a very complicated series, so any remarks on mistakes I might have made canonically would be greatly appreciated. (References would also be nice! That way I can look it up myself and make sure I don't repeat said mistake later.)  
_


	4. Part IV

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and his friends at Jump Comics. Not mine. _

* * *

_Warnings: language, violence, Hitsu-angst (and later whumping), _major_ SPOILERS up to current manga chapters_

_Thank you to Kellen for letting me throw this at you in a panic, more than once. x3 _

* * *

**_Part IV_**

Matsumoto hadn't said a word all week about the conversation in the bathroom, or about how he hadn't been eating or sleeping nearly enough for what he knew was considered healthy. Sleeping just brought on more fuddled nightmares and headaches, and anything he ate tended to be revisited soon after. But he wasn't going to let the worried looks and whisperings behind his back worry him. He still was doing his job as well as ever; he gave no reason to the others in the earth-bound outpost to question his abilities. Even if he questioned them himself.

The timing could have been better, too. Lately, there were almost triple the usual number of Hollow sightings than the last month, and Hitsugaya was just waiting for any sign of Arrancar. He had a feeling that it was only a matter of time before Aizen sent his minions to cause more trouble, and he knew for a fact that he wasn't ready to face them. Hopefully some of his current subordinates had been training – he knew now that both Ichigo and Renji had achieved _bankai_, which was useful – and would be more prepared to handle the trouble. Part of him secretly hoped that he would have a little more high-powered back-up soon, especially with Orihime's safety at large. He'd issued an order just after her near-kidnapping to have an escort with her at all times. Though he really didn't have any jurisdiction over Urahara, he'd asked him to keep an eye out for the girl as well. Urahara had agreed, much to his relief. The man was a powerful ally, even if his motives were on the questionable side.

And even if some of his scientific practices were rather off the wall. Hitsugaya shuddered, recalling the nasty black concoction Urahara had him drink months ago to replenish his low reiatsu levels. He'd never wish that kind of torment upon anyone, though it had worked. He sipped his green tea, hoping that the taste would help wash back the nasty recollection.

He got his wish, but not in the way he'd hoped it would happen. Matsumoto was at his door, looking wide-eyed and worried and out of breath. Wasn't she supposed to be on patrol?

"Hitsugaya-taichou – the eastern patrol…" she began.

She'd been part of the northern patrol. Renji and Yumichika had gone east. Something was wrong. He abruptly stood, grabbing Hyourinmaru and strapping its long sheath to his back in one smooth motion.

"Arrancar?" he asked, following Matsumoto down the corridor of the apartment and to the porch.

"Hollow," Matsumoto corrected. "Maybe vastrode level."

"Shit," Hitsugaya muttered, not pleased with the news. "Renji and Yumichika…?"

"Both fighting, though Yumichika sustained minor injuries last I checked. They requested backup. I came here first."

Good thinking, on Matsumoto's part. The less energy they expended on these invasions, the better, he decided as they quickly leapt from rooftop to rooftop, heading towards the east. Hitsugaya could already sense clashing levels of reiatsu in the distance, and was relieved to notice that there were at least three beings involved in the conflict. Hoping that Yumichika's injuries were indeed minor, he picked up speed.

"Have you heard back from Rukia, Ikkaku, or Ichigo?" Hitsugaya asked suddenly. He had to make sure at least one of them was available to keep watch over Orihime, or to be free to come assist if necessary.

"Orihime is with Urahara right now." Matsumoto knew what he was really asking, for which he was grateful. "Rukia's in the south with Ikkaku – haven't heard back from them yet – and Ichigo has covered west and is headed our direction."

Hitsugaya nodded curtly in acknowledgement, relieved that Ichigo would be coming to back them up. If this Hollow was going to cause trouble, it was better to use all-out power, which Renji had plenty and Ichigo had in droves. He too was no slouch in the power department; though at this point he wasn't sure how well synchronized he was with Hyourinmaru.

The ground shook beneath them, and a puff of debris mushroomed out of a spot between two houses in the distance. Hitsugaya resisted the urge to swear as he thought of how much clean-up work they'd have to do afterwards.

"We're almost there," he muttered.

Matsumoto nodded, placing a hand on Haineko's hilt. Hitsugaya reached up to grab the hilt of his own zanpakutou, and after two more shunpo brought them to the edge of the battle. Looking down, Hitsugaya saw Renji with Zabimaru fully extended, fending off a smaller-looking Hollow than he was expecting, though it was definitely at vastrode level. Then again, these things were unusually variant in size and shape, so it didn't really surprise him that much. He was more surprised by the fact that Yumichika had indeed been wounded – he sat over to the side trying to tie off a bandage around his middle with shaking, blood-coated hands. Another sudden presence attracted Hitsugaya's attention, and looking down the road a ways he saw yet another – larger – vastrode-level Hollow approaching, its intention clear. It was going after Yumichika.

_Shit._

Hitsugaya took one more look to verify that Renji was doing alright on his own for the time being before he unsheathed Hyourinmaru and leapt off the building, landing in front of Yumichika in a low crouch.

"H-Hitsugaya…taichou," Yumichika managed. Hitsugaya nodded his greeting.

"You going to be alright, Yumichika?" he asked.

"Yeah. This… is just a scratch," Yumichika said, a grim smile on his prettied face.

"You'd better move out of range if you're able," Hitsugaya warned. Yumichika nodded, and grunted as he pulled himself to his feet and staggered to what he hoped would be a safer spot. With some measure of relief, Hitsugaya saw Matsumoto take a position that allowed her to guard Yumichika while he was trying to heal himself enough to get back to Keigo's.

The Hollow slowed when it saw Hitsugaya standing in its path, and then seemed to cock its head to the side as it regarded its next enemy.

"You're small for a captain," it noted with some amusement.

Hitsugaya glared at the Hollow, but let the remark slide otherwise. He watched without a word for a while, trying to gauge the beast. It wasn't as small as the other Hollow that Renji was currently entangled with, but it wasn't huge, either. It had lanky limbs and a hunched back, a young face with a cruel grin. Crouching low into a stance with Hyourinmaru, Hitsugaya waited as the Hollow seemed to look him over as well. He shuddered, wishing life was simpler as it was not so long ago – when not so many Hollows were as intelligent as these damned vastrodes.

"Quiet, too," it noted after a moment. "I think this should be interesting. You're Hitsugaya, right?" Hitsugaya's eyes widened, but he quickly narrowed them further and tensed, ready to spring. "Surprised I knew your name? Heard you killed Shawlong. Not bad."

Hitsugaya grit his teeth, and began to summon his reiatsu to bring out Hyourinmaru. He faltered, however, when the Hollow simply grinned, unmoving.

"Gin told me I should tell you my name, but I don't really see the point. You're going to die, anyway. It's useless to give one's name to a dead Shinigami."

At the name 'Gin,' Hitsugaya's face twisted into a scowl, and he heard Matsumoto gasp – she must've heard it, too. Swallowing the bile that was slowly making its way up the back of his throat, Hitsugaya prepared to end this ridiculous vastrode's monologue before it said anything further. It was getting rather annoying as it was.

"But since he ordered me, I have to obey. Name's Yori. Nice to meet you, Hitsugaya."

_Yori._ The world suddenly went white before Hitsugaya's eyes, and a familiar face drifted across his vision. A young-faced man with lanky limbs, smiling, dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail, wearing dirtied, tattered farmer's clothes. Laying in a bloodied heap on a dirty wooden floor, several uniformed policemen standing over him with his blood on their swords, grins dirtier than the floors upon their faces. Red seeping across his image – blood and rage, and then more blood.

_"Sato Yori was a good friend,"_ he heard his own voice saying; it wasn't coming from his own lips, but from the lips of the black-haired version of himself. His mirror had tears in his eyes as he stood before a woman and her two children, who were all crying openly.

_"Sato Yori died because you couldn't protect him, and now his family will die because you can't protect them either. You've doomed them to death, Murae. You're their executioner." _

"Gin was right; you're nothing once we've exchanged names. You're even weaker than I thought you'd be."

"Hitsugaya-taichou!"

"_Goddamn _it, shorty!"

Instinct had him scrambling for a shikai – he had to avenge Yori, keep his family safe, stop them from hurting Yumichika and his heart was pounding in his ears and making it difficult to hear or see… Everything blurred into such a dizzying whirlwind that he could no longer hold onto either reality or dream, until he really did smell blood and felt it splashing across his face and hands and arms and sword. Reality slowly came back into the clear, and he was surprised as Renji's blurred but strained face was suddenly right in front of his own, loose red hair framing his sweaty face.

"Thank… the gods," Renji breathed when Hitsugaya's eyes finally focused and met his. He winced, and then his eyes rolled and showed only whites. Hitsugaya barely managed to drop his zanpakutou from his shaking hands – hadn't even realized he'd been holding it – and scrambled to catch the much larger man as he fell.

Eyes wide in alarm, Hitsugaya tried piecing back together what had just happened, but every time he started to try to remember, sharp pain stabbed into his skull and refused to let him wander there. Had he been the one to strike Renji? Where were the Hollows? He flinched when a hand touched his back, then he looked around wildly to find Matsumoto's horrified face staring down at him, at Renji's blood coating his hands. Looking past her, he saw Ichigo – when had he arrived? – deliver a final blow to the other Hollow; the one that had tried to fight him was nowhere in sight. Rukia was running towards them with a fearful look on her face, and even Ikkaku was helping Yumichika was trying to limp his way over. He looked back down at Renji's torn back, the blood coating Hyourinmaru, and then back up at Matsumoto.

"Did… did I…?" Hitsugaya said hoarsely, breath catching in his throat painfully.

Matsumoto knelt down beside Hitsugaya and helped lower Renji to the pavement on his back. She shook her head in response to Hitsugaya's question.

"No," she whispered. "He… stepped between you and the vastrode when it tried to attack you, and you… you didn't move."

A sick feeling twisted Hitsugaya's stomach, hot prickles tingling down his spine and along his arms as he looked down at the now-unconscious Renji. He had _stood there_. He was a captain, and he freaking _stood _there. And now one of his subordinates – one who was depending on him – had been badly hurt because of it.

"Renji!" Rukia exclaimed, kneeling down next to them and trying to find the source of the blood. "Help me roll him over."

Hitsugaya could only watch numbly as they worked to roll the much larger man onto his stomach, as Ichigo came to help them, as Rukia began chanting the words for healing kidou with her hands hovering over the deep wound in Renji's back. The blood slowed, and drops of sweat broke out on Rukia's face. And then Hitsugaya realized that if he didn't get his act together – and _soon _– there would be hell to pay, either in lives or his own pride.

No matter that he hardly had any pride left to speak of.

"We need to get Abarai back to the office," Hitsugaya said suddenly, forcing himself to speak evenly and with authority. "We'll need to get Inoue-san to come and take a look at him, and Yumichika as well."

When nobody moved or said anything, Hitsugaya suddenly felt afraid that they were all angry at him, as if he had been the one to deliver the blow to Renji. Not that he blamed them; he might as well have cut Renji himself with all the good he did standing by while it happened, but it still hurt all the same. He was surprised, however, when he looked up and saw that everyone seemed to be more relieved than angry. Perhaps he had misjudged them… or himself.

"I'll get Orihime," Rukia volunteered, worrying her lip. It was the right choice; she was too small to help carry either Renji or Yumichika. Hitsugaya nodded curtly.

As Rukia ran back towards Inoue's apartment, and as Matsumoto supported Yumichika on his good side and Ikkaku and Ichigo struggled to support Renji's dead weight between them, Hitsugaya tried to put on a stern mask as he took guard and led the group back to the office. And yet, he couldn't help but feel like more of a failure than he'd ever felt in his short career as a captain, or even as a shinigami.

* * *

_The world seems much bleaker now that the sword police are in town. They have a wicked glint in their expressions that sends shivers down the spines of any villager who dares look them in the eye. A reputation for bullying and corruption only adds to the long list of reasons why civilians avoid them at all costs. The police know it. It's a survival tactic, one that the police treat as a game, even if it means life and death to the others. _

_But for a blacksmith like Murae Masaru, it is impossible to avoid the sword police entirely with his line of business. He puts on a brave face for the others, and calmly takes in the swords from the police and tries hard to resist the temptation to destroy or weaken the blades during maintenance. He doesn't dare, however; he knows that he is under harsh scrutiny by the division's leader. He isn't sure why, but he has a feeling it has something to do with the fact that he is ex-samurai, or perhaps it has something to do with his father's death. _

_Either way, he isn't up to taking on the entire division himself. He is only one man, and he cannot expect the others in the village to bring out swords in a new era in which they are illegal. It would be suicide for everyone. While he no longer is samurai, he cannot help but have a sense of duty to the others in the village. To act out is to condemn them. _

_The police have yet to kill anyone, he rationalizes. They can put up with annoyances as long as there is no bloodshed. The war is long over, and this is supposed to be a new era of peace. The new government promised that much. _

_But part of him knows that the peace won't last long, and that he is going to be involved somehow. The thought unnerves him, to the point of distraction at which his wife begins pleading him to sleep more and to take care of his health. _

_It is this realization that causes the unrealism of the whole situation – one that should not exist, by all rights – to unravel, and then he finds himself dying, and then hearing the news of his father's death in a blaze of futility in honor of his samurai heritage, and then… _

_And then he awakens, and the world is no longer comprised of fishing boats, dirt roads, or sword police; it is a place where the dead are trying to regain power from the living… and once again, he's caught in the middle._

* * *

"Yumichika-kun is fine now, and Renji-kun is resting," Orihime reported as she walked back into the office, offering Matsumoto a small smile. Matsumoto breathed a relieved sigh, nodding back at Orihime and smiling in return, but Orihime didn't catch the gesture. She was peering around the office as if she was looking for something, and when she didn't find it, she frowned and asked, "Where is Hitsugaya-taichou? Shouldn't I report this to him, too?" 

Matsumoto sighed again, a gesture of frustrated defeat this time. "Don't worry about it. I'll relay the message to him. Thank you for your hard work, 'Hime-chan."

Orihime nodded uncertainly, and seemed to want to say something but couldn't quite figure out what it was. She left regardless, and Matsumoto massaged her temples with her fingertips once the girl was out of sight. To tell the truth, she was easily as worried about the taichou as she was pretty sure everyone else was. He'd been increasingly distracted, and it was as if he hadn't even realized how much of an issue it was becoming until Renji had delivered an eye-opening lesson like a hard slap across the boy's face.

She could have told him that he wasn't fit to work in this condition, but he never listened to her on that count anyway. Always shrugging it off as a mother-hen complex, or excessive and needless worrying because of the Parasite Hollow incident. It made her a little angry, thinking of it in those terms. The arrogant little twit was either overestimating his recovery rate, or something new was wrong that he refused to admit – even to himself. Well, she hoped he'd figured it out on his own by now. He almost deserved it.

But he'd been off brooding for more than three hours now. She could sense his reiatsu up on the roof; it hadn't moved in quite some time. He rarely spent more than twenty minutes away from his work unless he was either sleeping or forcibly detained somewhere. This was a problem. Not only did she hate doing all the paperwork associated with work-related casualties, but it worried her that he was so upset. Maybe if she went up on the roof… just maybe he would let her in on what was going on. She deserved some kind of explanation, at least – she was his fukutaichou, and she had to be able to speak to the others on his behalf. She wouldn't be able to do that much without some help on his part, after all. Shuffling the several half-filled reports into a neat stack, she pushed them aside and stood, then headed to the roof.

As expected, she found Hitsugaya sitting on the tiles of the slanted roof, knees tucked up under his chin and his thin arms wrapped around his legs as he stared blankly out over the city skyline. The image he painted sent a shiver down Matsumoto's spine, but she steeled her resolve and quietly walked over to him and sat down beside him, joining him in his city-gazing. The fact that he said nothing wasn't unusual, but he hadn't so much as batted an eyelid to even acknowledge her presence.

"What were your first memories at Soul Society like?" She jumped when his quiet, low voice broke the silence suddenly, and she cast him a wide-eyed look before she frowned in thought.

"I… I don't really remember too well," she replied uncertainly, trying to figure out what the taichou was trying to get at. "It's been a really long time since then, but I think I do remember Yamamoto-taichou was there." She smiled wryly. "I think it was pretty weird waking up and knowing you'd died, but you couldn't remember when or how, or what your life was like before then. As if you'd been reincarnated somehow into a new body, you know?" He was silent for a moment before she added thoughtfully, "I wonder sometimes if I looked the same way then that I do now, or what I was like when I was alive. It's kind of weird knowing that you were once somebody else, but you don't know who that person is."

Hitsugaya grunted neutrally, almost as if he disagreed, and seemed to hug his legs even closer to chest. Matsumoto scowled when he didn't say anything for a few more minutes. Opening her mouth to demand answers, she was surprised – again – when he beat her to it.

"I know I've been… distracted lately," he said, and though his face didn't change expression, Matsumoto caught deep emotion shining in his eyes as he struggled to speak. "I… I probably owe you a few explanations."

Matsumoto snorted and resisted the urge to say, _"no shit!" _but she held her tongue.

"You see… well…" He paused again; the uncertainty was unnerving, but she forced herself to be patient. He might not speak at all if she tried to press too hard. "I'm having these… bad dreams, but… well… they seem more real than any other dreams I've ever had. Like I've lived them out before, but not as… as _me_."

She nodded slowly even though she didn't completely understand what he was saying, urging him to continue, but she frowned; if this had to do with his memory, part of her wondered if it had anything to do with the damage the Parasite Hollow inflicted on his mind. If it had knocked something loose…

_Oh god._ And then she realized what he was aiming at. Her stomach dropped. Yes, that would cause more than a few problems.

Hitsugaya paused, finally giving her a sideways glance to gauge her reaction. He must've seen something in her face, because he immediately buried his face into his knees.

"I must be going crazy," he muttered, the words muffled by his hakama.

"How much do you remember?" she asked suddenly.

He flinched and waited a moment before he replied. "More than I should, but not all of it."

She drew in a sharp breath. If Yamamoto-taichou caught wind of this…

"_How much do you remember_?" she asked again, more insistently this time, but careful to keep her tone positive. She had to support him, no matter what.

"Names. Faces. Occupations, and maybe even a location," he said, the words still muffled with his face pressed against his knees.

A lot more than he was letting on, apparently.

"How long…?"

"Bits and pieces since Hyourinmaru got fixed… though I didn't make many connections until today," he said in almost a whisper. "I still don't remember all of it, or what order… but I remember enough."

"Taichou…"

"I know," he hissed, suddenly looking up at her with a frustrated glare. Sighing, he looked away again. "Yamamoto-taichou will want me to go back there so he can fix the problem."

She swear she could hear the "but" a mile away, so she said it for him. "But…?"

"I—" He paused, almost choking on the word, massaging his brows with his fingertips as if he was fighting off a headache. "I'm not sure I want to forget them again."

And _that_ surprised her more than anything else had.

* * *

**_.notes. _**

_Sorry for all these notes; I hadn't intended to write anything down here most of the time. I just wanted to make a quick note that I'd written 'Endurance' before the chapter in which it becomes apparent that Hitsugaya and Urahara hadn't ever met before, as I mentioned in this chapter. I labeled this story as 'divergence', and that issue falls under the 'divergence' category, I would imagine. That, and the fact that Orihime's capture had not yet been verified when I'd written the first part of 'Resilience'. I know that changes a lot of the directional focus of this particular story as compared to the manga, but hey, I can't help it when my crazy imagination strays from Kubo Tite-sama's brilliant storyline. I will note other changes as they arise, if they're not apparent or if anyone has a particular question on something specific. Just wanted to cover my bases, hehe._**_  
_**

* * *


	5. Part V

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and his friends at Jump Comics... and I suppose Viz as well. Not mine._

* * *

_Warnings: language, violence, Hitsu-angst (and later whumping), _major_ SPOILERS up to current manga chapters_

* * *

_**Part V**_

_Breathe. Deeply – in, out… in, out. That's it. Now open your eyes. What do you see?_

…_You don't see anything, do you? Don't panic; not yet. What you do not see will not hurt you in your current state. This is what you have been taught, and will continue to be told until you discover otherwise. You told me long before that, however, that you never wanted to be in the dark again – and yet here you are, in the place you once feared the most. It doesn't seem to bother you anymore, as if you don't even realize where you are. But I've known from the start, because I am not blind, and this is where _he_ wants you to be._

_Taking that first step into the light isn't easy. First steps never are that simple. He doesn't want you to remember anything, after all. If you want to know the truth, you'll have to take a blind leap of faith and trust me. I'm all you've got in the dark. _

_Ah, I see you're still afraid yet, Toushirou… but that's a good start._

* * *

He was tired, and almost used that exact excuse to brush the buxom fukutaichou away as they sat on the roof, his arms wrapped around his knees and his chin resting against his forearms. He hated the intensity of the look she'd pinned on him from the side – he could feel it, even if he couldn't see it. Maybe he'd said too much, or not enough of the right things to say. But he'd never had this happen to him before, and though he still was new to the captains' club, he had been around long enough to know what happened to Shinigami whose memories returned. It was more than just a little unsettling, especially if he risked losing his position – and of course, memories he'd just been able to regain – before he could make sense of what was going on. Like why Gin was in the picture, for one thing. Of everything, that was the single thought he wanted to keep until he figured out _why_. 

Common sense dictated that Matsumoto wouldn't be pleased at the information, and that was why Hitsugaya chose to remain silent for the time being. Let her draw her own conclusions for now. If Gin was a problem in more ways outside of his traitorous desertion, she would find out later. He didn't want to bring up a rather sore subject for her unless it was absolutely necessary.

"How is Abarai?" he finally asked.

"Oh!" Matsumoto exclaimed. "That's why I came up here. Orihime says he'll be fine, just really sore for a bit. He's resting, but he'll probably need to be off-duty for a day or so."

A small measure of relief washed through Hitsugaya, though he refused to let it show. Damned if he would. He could see Matsumoto narrow her eyes out of the corner of his vision and he tensed. His mind considered a dozen possible distracting topics before she could open her mouth, but none of them seemed to come out in time for him to actually keep her from asking the dreaded question he was sure she was about to ask.

But sometimes, Matsumoto completely surprised him.

"Do you want me to hold dinner for you, or will you be down in the next half-hour? You're not getting out of eating all day by pouting."

His muscles relaxed reflexively, and instead he tore his gaze from out over the cityscape and shot her a scowl. "I don't pout."

She snorted as she stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her pants. "Sure you don't."

"I'll be down for dinner."

Matsumoto nodded with a small self-satisfied grin before turned and went back downstairs. Hitsugaya sighed, and then went back to staring out over the cityscape, allowing the bustling thoughts to occupy his mind.

* * *

Ichigo checked the clock on the wall and scowled as his homeroom teacher's voice droned in the back of his mind. He really hadn't wanted to come to class today – especially with what had happened the previous night, and damned if he wasn't worried about Renji and the short captain. However, when Rukia insisted that they keep up a proper pretense and attend class, he couldn't say no. She was right, after all. Besides, somebody needed to take notes for Renji and let the teachers know that Matsumoto and Hitsugaya would also be absent that day. 

Even that thought didn't help ease his mind, though. While he didn't know everything about Soul Society's ridiculous political system – nor did he want to know much, especially after what they'd done to Rukia – he could tell that the other Shinigami was unsettled. Apparently, Hitsugaya's little trip to lala-land in the middle of that brawl had more consequences than just the most immediate ones, like Renji's injuries and Hitsugaya's upset brooding. In the end, none of that had been serious, and yet the look on Rukia's face even after they heard Ikkaku and Renji would be fine… that told volumes. That was how he knew there was much more to the situation than he was seeing.

Which was exactly why he was going to bolt the second class got in five mintues, twenty-six seconds and counting. Well, that and the fact that Tatsuki had been glaring at him nearly all day. He didn't want to be around long enough to figure out what that was all about. To the heart of the matter; he may not be an official Shinigami, he determined, but he sure as hell wasn't going to be left in the dark when everyone else knew what was going on.

He also wanted to know how Renji – despite the fact that he was still exhausted – had been healed so quickly. The injuries he'd sustained from the fight were pretty damn serious, as far as Ichigo saw. He wasn't there when Orihime had treated him, but even he knew that Renji's wounds had been healed at an extremely fast rate. Orihime had to have done some training of her own while he was with the Vaizards. There was no other explanation.

There were so many other things he wanted to know as well, like why Ishida had been absent as well, or where Yoruichi had run off to in the meantime. So much was happening these days that he almost couldn't keep up. Aizen was planning something bad; while that was inevitable, he still wanted to at least have a head's-up of what he could expect.

When the teacher dismissed the class, Ichigo couldn't leave fast enough. Tatsuki's angry voice calling his name followed him down the hall, but he had to ignore it for the time being. He felt like he just didn't have time to listen. But when he nearly ran directly into his English teacher, he had to stop. The teacher had an odd look on his face.

"Kurosaki-kun, I need to have a few words with you."

He sighed and nodded. No getting out of this one; he had missed a few classes after all. He needed a few quick excuses, though it was doubtful any of them would work on the teacher. He'd have some extra homework to do. Hopefully Rukia would head on home, but he had a bad feeling that she would wait for him.

Just his luck; the teacher did have some make-up work for him to do, but actually did understand a few of the excuses Ichigo managed to cook up at the last second. He usually wasn't so good at this whole lying thing, but twisting the truth – that he could do. His 'uncle' had been hurt and he'd had to help out. It got a little chaotic, and he'd ended up missing a few classes. The teacher nodded and let him go, reminding him to call the school next time there was an issue.

By the time he rounded the corner back towards Orihime's apartment, the massive shift in reiatsu told him he was right.

* * *

Renji was bored. And when Renji was bored, he tended to pick on those around him to get some reaction out of them for entertainment's sake. That, at least, usually helped him get through boredom. However, even Renji knew when there was too tense of an atmosphere for joking, and he was smack in the middle of one. Hell, he knew he had a little to do with it – his own fault for stepping in like that and getting everyone to twist their loin cloths in a bunch – but he didn't see that as much of a choice. They needed Hitsugaya in this upcoming war, or whatever Aizen was planning. And Hitsugaya needed to be mentally whole. 

So instead of fidgeting or annoying the hell out of Rangiku – who usually was a perfect target, since she always got so flustered when he pushed just the right buttons – he passed the time by keeping careful observation of the apartment. Ichigo wasn't there, obviously; his reiatsu stuck out like a sore thumb. Shorty alternated between his office and the roof, and Rangiku fluttered worriedly about. Orihime was also in and out, usually coming in to check on him and to warn him not to do anything stupid. Though he was still sore, he did notice that his wounds were healing far faster than he'd ever seen them heal, and he knew it had to have something to do with Orihime's abilities. He was impressed.

The young captain's lapse during the fight had him worried. Hitsugaya had seemed to recover from the Parasite incident well enough – faster than Renji had expected him to, considering just how bad he remembered the situation was – but he had a bad feeling that the current issue was somehow connected with that. While he wasn't sure how that was possible, his instinct told him to keep an eye on shorty.

Shifting irritably, he scowled as stiff muscles protested. He wanted to get up and walk around; it was easier to think that way. And he wanted to make sure that Hitsugaya back to his right mind. The younger Shinigami had looked shaken the last he remembered, and despite Renji's inquiries after the captain once he'd awakened, he'd been told nothing. Rangiku would know, and he hadn't seen her around yet. Maybe Orihime had caught on to the fact that they'd become drinking buddies and had forbidden Ran-chan to visit him with the much-desired alcohol. Gods knew he could use a few rounds right now.

Screw what Orihime ordered. He was going to get up, and he was going to get out of this stifling room for some fresh air. Clear his mind a bit and all, the whole _zen _thing. He didn't sense Orihime around anyway.

By the time he swung his feet over the bed with a sore grunt, he did sense that Rangiku was around, and decided he'd go talk to her first. Pulling a loose shirt on over the bandages stretching across his chest, he trudged out of the room and towards where he was sure Rangiku was bustling around. He found her in the kitchen, messing with what he assumed would be dinner. Not bad; Rangiku was a pretty good cook.

"Need some help, Ran-chan?" he asked, annoyed at how scratchy his voice sounded in his own ears. But damned if he was going to lay around any longer like some kind of invalid.

She looked startled as she turned away from the cutting board with wide eyes. "Renji! What the hell do you think you're doing out of bed? Orihime told you to rest, you idiot!"

Renji smiled sheepishly and put a hand behind his head. "I needed to get up and stretch. Besides, I'm fine now – the injuries are almost completely healed anyway."

Rangiku glared, and his smile faltered. He doubted that anyone was as intimidating as Rangiku on the warpath, which was exactly where she was headed. But much to his surprise, her expression softened and she sighed.

"Well, I suppose you could get a pot of tea started," she said, turning back to the cutting board as she spoke.

Renji felt his shoulders relax – he hadn't realized just how tense he was – and fumbled around the pantry for a teapot. He filled it with water from the tap, and then carried it over to the stove and put it on a burner before he switched it on. Once that task was complete, he leaned against the counter with one elbow and turned to look at Rangiku as she chopped vegetables and thin strips of raw beef. She already had a pot out with butter melting in it. Sukiyaki, perhaps?

"How's Hitsugaya-taichou?" he asked suddenly. Rangiku paused for so brief a moment that it almost looked like she hadn't stopped at all, but Renji noticed it and frowned.

"He'll be fine," she replied easily. "He was just a little shaken up, I think."

Renji nodded in agreement, but he couldn't help but feel that Rangiku wasn't telling him everything there was to tell. So he decided to press her a little further.

"I wonder what made him stop like that in the middle of a fight; it's just not like him," he said casually. "What if he really isn't completely better from before?"

Rangiku stopped this time and put down the knife and pinned Renji with a cautious stare. Renji tried to put on his best innocent look, and she sighed. "Renji, I know what you're getting at. If you really want answers, you'll have to ask Hitsugaya-taichou himself; it's his place to divulge such information, and not mine."

Reasonable answer, but still frustrating. He grunted. "Fine. I'll drop it." _For now._

They were quiet for a little while with only the sound of sizzling beef in the background, and Renji fidgeted, uncomfortable. He didn't sense anyone else in the house, which confused him a bit. He was sure that Hitsugaya at least would be around somewhere. It was about time for Ichigo and the others to arrive back from school; they were running a bit later than usual.

"Where is Hitsugaya-taichou, by the way?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.

Rangiku shrugged. "Not sure, but he did go out on a walk earlier. He said he'd be back in time to eat with the rest of us."

"Think he'll be okay?"

Rangiku shot him an odd look, but then she smiled confidently. "I'm sure. He can handle himself on a little walk."

With a grin, Renji opened his mouth to reply, but a sudden, burst of powerful, heavy, _familiar_ reiatsu interrupted him and sent both fukutaichou to their knees.

"What the hell…?" Renji grunted, completely unprepared. "Kuchiki-taichou… why is he here?"

Rangiku looked incredibly upset, eyes wide with worry. There was a sharp knock at the door, and Renji forced himself to his knees as he went to answer it. Eigth division's Kyoraku Shunsui stood there with Kuchiki, both looking somber.

"Kuchiki-taichou, Kyoraku-taichou," he said.

"Abarai-fukutaichou," Kuchiki greeted with a tight nod, after eyeing his subordinate with a quick once-over. "We're here on behalf of Yamamoto-taichou to collect Hitsugaya-taichou."

Suddenly, Renji felt ill. Something was terribly wrong here. "He's not here at the moment, Kuchiki-taichou." He felt Rangiku move up behind him.

"Hitsugaya-taichou has gone on a brief patrol, but he will be back shortly," Rangiku said firmly. "Is there anything I could do for you in the meantime?"

"No, thank you, Matsumoto-fukutaichou. We will wait for him here."

Renji swallowed and nodded, allowing the two captains to come into the apartment. Rangiku went off to the kitchen – probably to make sure nothing was burned and to get some tea – and Renji hadn't missed the horrified expression. Hitsugaya was in trouble. He wasn't sure if it had anything to do with the incident from the night before, and suddenly he felt like he was at least partly to blame. He knew how the system at Soul Society worked, however, and he knew that whatever was going on there was nothing he could do to help.

At the very least, he could tell that this wasn't going to go well.

* * *

Hitsugaya knew exactly what was going on, as a matter of fact. He'd gotten a feeling that the report he'd filed on the previous night's incident – by the book – had not been well met. As he'd anticipated, they had indeed read between the lines, or someone had managed to slip something. It wasn't Matsumoto; she was too trustworthy to go behind his back like that. Renji was out of the question since he'd been so out of it. Either that, or whoever had received the report was smart enough to figure out something was up. 

Part of him didn't want to go back to the apartment, but it wasn't worth the trouble it'd cause. He had known from the start – this was something he was going to have to deal with. In fact, he'd been counting on it. Hopefully Yamamoto-jii would see the logic behind the claims he'd already formulated in his mind in his own defense.

Determined, he turned back towards the apartment. They would be waiting, and he wanted to spare them the task of looking for him. _That _would be a sign of mistrust on their part, and a misjudgment on his. He could use all the positive points in his favor that he could possibly muster at this point.

In his favor, on the other hand, was the fact that Soul Society sincerely could not afford to lose him – or any other captain, for that matter – because of the upcoming war with Aizen, regardless of a breach on an antiquated rule... and especially if he might have some information that could help their cause.

Rubbing fingers harshly into his forehead in a sincere effort to stave off the growing headache that threatened to spread behind his eyes. Damn, but this was getting frustrating.

* * *

Quite frankly, Byakuya was getting tired of being sent as a messenger for these kinds of things. At first he'd been surprised to see just how nervous Matsumoto-fukutaichou was about their presence; she really didn't have anything to be worried about. Then again, their arrival so soon after the report could be troubling, especially after Hitsugaya had frozen in the middle of a battle. That would indeed require some investigation, but as far as he knew, Hitsugaya wasn't going to receive any kind of harsh punishment for that matter. 

Unless, of course, there was something more to the situation than Yamamoto-taichou had bothered to mention to him. Kyoraku's unusually serious expression gave him the idea that this might be the case. Maybe that's why Kyoraku had been told to accompany him.

His thoughts on the matter were cut off when he sensed Hitsugaya's distinctively cooler reiatsu approaching the premises. They would be returning to Soul Society soon enough, and hopefully the answers would become more apparent then.

Kyoraku stiffened beside him when the door opened, and a rather haggard-looking Hitsugaya stumbled into the apartment, showing no signs of surprise at the guests in the common room. He looked like he was probably going to collapse, but somehow managed to make it into the room and take a fairly dignified posture as he sat.

"Kyoraku, Kuchiki," he said. "Yamamoto-taichou summoned me?"

"I see you're as sharp as ever, Hitsugaya-kun," Kyoraku replied with a tight smile. "He expressed a desire for us to return quickly, so if you wouldn't mind…"

Byakuya schooled his expression to neutral despite his small pang of sympathy for the boy captain. He was clearly exhausted. But it wasn't his business, really – orders were orders, and they were going to follow them to the letter.

"Understood, Kyoraku-taichou," Hitsugaya said coolly as he stood, this time on slightly more steady feet.

Matsumoto-fukutaichou looked like she wanted to say something, but Hitsugaya shot her a knowing, restrictive glance, and she said nothing. A determined look flickered in her eyes, and she suddenly stood straighter, as if ready to take on the task of heading up the earth-bound group in the young captain's absence. All this transformation, and not a word spoken. Kuchiki was impressed at the level of communication between the two, but had no further time to think on it as he followed Hitsugaya and Kyoraku back outside where there was enough space to open a portal back to Soul Society.

* * *

The intensity of the gaze leveled at the small apartment and the glowing portal above it was belied by the casual posture of the observer. Soul Society was on the move, which meant that something was stirring within the ranks there. The healer-girl would be vulnerable without a captain's strength to help lead the protective group around her; it was high time that he made his own move. He hadn't really expected Soul Society to come after the white-haired kid, not when they were in such dire need of stronger manpower in the situation they were in. The foiled attempt to kidnap the girl had been a fluke; now it was frighteningly clear that she was far more important that even his own companions had seen. The training had paid off well. 

The promising orange-haired kid was on his way home now, probably alerted by the massive change in reiatsu back at the apartment. He grinned, a toothy expression, before he crouched and sped across the rooftops towards where he knew that Ichigo would be. All in all, this should be an interesting turn of events.

As much as this could become a problem, he was looking forward to it.

* * *

Ukitake had originally been upset that Yamamoto had forbidden him to travel with Shunsui and Byakuya, but he realized that Yamamoto was probably right. He might have let his own feelings about Hitsugaya get in the way of his judgement, and that would have been entirely counter-productive. It wasn't as if Hitsugaya was in serious trouble, after all. They just needed to have a chance to talk with him, according to Yamamoto. Even so, he still had a bad feeling that there was more to this than even the old man was willing to say. 

But from what Ukitake could determine, it was more than enough cause for worry. He hadn't seen Yamamoto with such a serious – and yet concerned – expression in a very long time. He knew that Hitsugaya had somehow broken a rule, but the real question lay with how and why this was coming up now, when they really needed every captain they could afford to face Aizen's mounting forces.

Ukitake coughed, shivering, and he took a sip of the hot tea he'd requested. Even just thinking about Aizen's treachery made him feel ill. Everything he'd known for so long in Soul Society had been completely turned upside down. Though he also knew that it was time to move on and face the facts that they were going to be seeing trouble soon enough, he wasn't in the mood to think about it right now.

Hopefully the issue with Hitsugaya would be minor. Hopefully it would amount to practically nothing, and the boy would be back on his happy way to earth to continue leading the small defense force that had been deployed there. Hopefully…

He saw the portal light up, and as he watched the three captains step through, his gaze met the icy exhaustion in Hitsugaya's eyes for the briefest moment before they walked past him. Hopefully the boy's determination would override the apparent fatigue he'd just seen. He turned and hurried into the lead without a word, knowing he too was requested to be present at the small meeting in Yamamoto's office.

The small procession entered the ante-chamber to Yamamoto's office, and behind them the door closed and latched shut. Sasakibe-fukutaichou bowed in his usual solemn manner, motioning them into the first division captain's office. Ukitake had never been so surprised in his life to see that the office had been completely rearranged in so quick a matter of time. But then, he had seen this once before, a very long time ago. The realization hit him too late to do anything about it, and his stomach dropped with a sickening force as he understood exactly what was going on.

Hitsugaya was in far more trouble than he ever could have anticipated.

* * *

_Forgive me if I stray from canon here and there to make a few plot points work. Push comes to shove, I might label this as AU-ish, just in case. A few new developments in the manga kind of threw off my storyline, danget.  
_


	6. Part VI

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and his friends at Jump Comics... and I suppose Viz as well. Not mine._

* * *

_Warnings: Same as always – violence, language, whumping, abuse of artistic license. _

* * *

_**Part VI**_

Matsumoto felt her limbs go numb the moment the door closed behind the three captains. But before she could hit the floor, Renji was there to support her.

"Ran-chan…!"

She distantly felt his muscles trembling from the strain, and part of her told her that he wasn't yet at full strength and that he shouldn't be doing this for her. Part of her didn't care. Everything was so muddled in her mind that she didn't even realize that she'd been moved until she saw Orihime waving a hand in front of her face as she sat slumped on the couch. Orihime looked worried, but her expression brightened even as Matsumoto became aware of what was going on.

"Welcome back, Rangiku-san," Orihime said with a smile. "We were worried about you there for a bit – you had quite a nasty shock."

"Wh-Wha–" Matsumoto stuttered, blinking, but couldn't seem to find words through the disorientation. Had she passed out? She saw Yumichika leaning heavily against a the wall at the entrance to the living room looking pale and worried, and Renji was right behind Orihime with a concerned scowl. But she was still sitting up. No – no, she hadn't fainted, but she might as well have, she decided as she remembered why it was she was in this state.

"They took him!" she breathed, a thousand scenarios of what they were going to do to Hitsugaya when they found out that he'd _remembered_ fluttering through her mind. "They know… They _know_. Oh gods, he is in so much trouble."

"Damn it, Ran-chan," Renji snapped suddenly, surprising her entirely. "I knew you two were hiding something from the rest of us. It's about damn time you tell us what the hell is going on."

"I can't, I… I–"

She'd heard rumors of what happened to Shinigami who _remembered_, who broke past the seals that held their memories behind closed doors. They either went mad, or Yamamoto-jii cracked them. She couldn't breathe, couldn't even form the words in her mind to explain what she was imagining. She didn't want to.

Suddenly, a loud _slap_ echoed sharply in the room, and Matsumoto felt a hand-shaped burning patch on her cheek. Bewildered, she looked up as the stars from the impact cleared from her vision. She saw Rukia standing there, hand raised for another strike, eyes sparkling with fury – the only feature in focus. She hadn't even noticed when Rukia returned from school. Matsumoto blearily saw Renji and Orihime standing behind the shorter Shinigami, stark surprised etched into their expressions.

"Get yourself together, fukutaichou!" Rukia snapped. "You've been given a task, and you're going to go through with it, if you want to help Hitsugaya-taichou. Get a _grip_."

Matsumoto's vision narrowed, coming back into sharp focus as Rukia's hand descended again. This time, Matsumoto caught the smaller girl's wrist in her hand mid-descent. Realization struck swiftly, and the blonde vice-captain dropped Rukia's wrist as if it burned her hand. She had to get herself under control. This was not what Hitsugaya had asked her to do with that look he'd given her on his way out the door.

She had to take charge.

Rukia smiled. "Welcome back, Matsumoto-fukutaichou."

Matsumoto nodded seriously in return, a silent thank-you for the wake-up call, but she didn't smile. Instead, she stood and regarded the other three people in the room with a grave expression, an equally silent apology for her lapse. Renji's grin was feral as he nodded, and Orihime – though looking rather perplexed and confused – seemed to gather some determination as well.

"Hitsugaya-taichou will not be back for a little while. I'm afraid we'll have to expect the worst in that situation," Matsumoto began, "but that doesn't mean we can let our guards down. Aizen might already know we don't have a captain present and could easily take advantage of the situation. We need to be extremely careful."

Matsumoto fixed a sharp gaze on Orihime, who nodded in understanding. She was incredibly vulnerable now, and would not be allowed to stay in the apartment alone, nor could she leave the apartment without an escort. It was an unspoken rule before, but it was even more necessary now with the way the situation was unfolding.

And suddenly, Matsumoto remembered she'd left the sukiyaki on the stove.

"_Shit_!" she exclaimed, eyes widening as she turned to go back to the kitchen.

"Oh, the sukiyaki? Already took care of the rest of it," Renji said mildly, stepping in Matsumoto's path. "It's on the table."

Matsumoto let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Really, she needed to get a grip. The task ahead wasn't going to be easy, but she was pretty sure she was up to it. Luckily, she had plenty of support available to back her up.

* * *

"What the _fuck_ do you mean that Hitsugaya was taken? And how the hell do you know this?" Ichigo exclaimed, spittle flying from his mouth in rage as he stood toe-to-toe with the Vaizard who had trained him. 

Shinji sighed. "I saw it, you moron. Your Soul Society Shinigami buddies took him back home. I know Aizen wants the girl you guys have under your care – Inoue Orihime, right? – and that you guys don't have enough power to keep him from getting what he wants right now."

Ichigo grit his teeth, but he _knew_, damn it, that Shinji was probably right. He looked away and took a step back, removing his hands from the front of Shinji's shirt. Shinji grunted, straightening the collar on his school uniform.

"That's what I thought. Now I normally couldn't care less about those damned Shinigami and Soul Society's ridiculous rules and political problems," Shinji began with a bored tone, "but I can't deny that those guys – and you – are taking care of precious property. It would be in all of our best interests if Inoue didn't end up with Aizen. I'm here to offer my services, at least until the short captain gets back."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow; he honestly hadn't expected any help from the Vaizards unless they got something in return for it. Like his loyalty, for instance. According to them, he was already a Vaizard himself… but he had never outright pledged loyalty to the group of them. And with that thought and the way Shinji was looking at him with that damned arrogant smirk, he had a feeling he was being baited.

"You want something from me," he stated.

Shinji's grin spread. "I suppose you know me better than I thought you did, boy. Impressive."

"What do you want?"

"You already know the answer to that question."

Ichigo paused for a moment. He couldn't deny that they probably did need help from the Vaizards, but like hell he was officially going to take orders from Shinji. Not now, at least.

"Hell no," he snarled, turning and walking back to the apartment, away from the annoying, grinning Vaizard.

"Now, now, Ichigo. Be reasonable. You and I both know that this is a pretty serious situation."

"We can take care of the problem ourselves, with or without Hitsugaya-taichou present," he said over his shoulder, with a dismissive wave.

"Would you be willing to compromise?"

Ichigo whirled with a raised eyebrow. "What the hell kind of offer would you be able to make that I could possibly want?"

If it was possible, Shinji's grin widened even further.

"Besides our help? Information, of course."

Ichigo's eyes widened in surprise. "What kind of information?"

* * *

Any hopes that Hitsugaya had initially had for a fair hearing were dashed the moment he set foot in Yamamoto's office. Though he hadn't been part of Soul Society – Seireitei, for that matter – to ever have witnessed something like this, he had heard about it before. He had heard it only through the most terrible rumors he'd ever known, and suddenly his resolve began to crumble before his very eyes. 

He was in deep trouble.

Apparently, Yamamoto-taichou had redecorated since the last time he'd been in the old man's office. The place looked more like a lab now, and with a sick feeling crawling in his stomach, he saw Kurotsuchi's grinning face somewhere in the small group of captains present. _Damn_ but he hated that man. Unohana-taichou was also there, looking highly displeased. Ukitake visibly shifted uncomfortably in front of him. Panic welled in his chest, but he clamped down on it with all his strength. This was no ordinary meeting, and he knew he probably was the reason behind it. Everyone was staring at him expectantly.

"Hitsugaya-kun," Yamamoto greeted. "Please, come in. I think you know why I've asked you to come, and that you realize you are in violation of Shinigami code."

Hyourinmaru stirred at the unspoken challenge in the older captain's voice. Neither the dragon nor its wielder wanted to be here right now. It was dangerous – this, his home, the people he trusted; all now seen as potential hazards. The world faded to black and white, battle vision, blazingly bright streaks flashing across his vision and he thought he saw the room filling with smoke and everything in the room distorted into dark beasts like those from Hueco Mundo…

"Take a seat."

His vision cleared, but his mind did not. Blankly, he obeyed the order, the panic beginning to find its way back into his chest, squeezing until he thought he was short of breath.

"_Calm down," _the dragon's voice ordered.

_I can't—I…_

"_Calm down, or you're going to make this worse."_

"Hitsugaya-kun," Yamamoto said neutrally, snapping Hitsugaya's attention back to the present. "I think you know exactly why you're here."

Hitsugaya closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Yamamoto-jii wanted an answer, but he couldn't give that up yet. Perhaps he still had a chance. That thought, at least, helped calm him some, and he felt oxygen return to his lungs. Opening his eyes, he remained stoically still, even in the serious face of the elderly captain.

"_That's better. Think this through, Toushirou."_

"You do realize that you are in direct violation of our code," Yamamoto said after he realized Hitsugaya wasn't going to easily give him answers. "This is a problem. We are in a tight situation; we can't afford to have dissention in our ranks now. Your full cooperation on this matter would be greatly appreciated."

Hitsugaya said nothing and looked away. This was not going to end well, not at all. Yamamoto was a powerful Shinigami; he had founded the Gotei Thirteen. A sudden stirring of extremely powerful reiatsu only gave him a split-second warning before he felt the full force of a binding _kidoh_ envelop him, jerking his arms sharply behind his back. A soft cry of surprise escaped through his gritted teeth, and he could faintly hear Ukitake protesting from the side. Otherwise, he remained silent; he wouldn't be able to speak anyway, not with a binding _kidoh_ restricting his every movement. Yama-jii must be mad if he thought this would work.

"Hitsugaya-_taichou_, if you do not answer my questions fully and truthfully, I will have no choice but to exact the punishment laid out in the code," Yamamoto said in a warning tone. "You should be able to speak – that was a targeted _kidoh_, and will not affect that ability."

_Damn old man already reading my mind, huh?_ Hitsugaya narrowed his eyes.

"I want you to tell me exactly what you remember."

Hitsugaya pursed his lips, leveling a stubborn glare at the older captain. Why would he want to know, if all he was going to do was erase what was there? This was absolutely pointless; the result would be the same no matter what he did.

"I don't know what you're talking about." There. He kept his voice from shaking.

"You're not making this any easier, Toushirou-kun," Yama-jii said, an undercurrent of warning in his even tone. "Kurotsuchi-taichou, perhaps you can help him recall a little."

Kurotsuchi smirked, the black paint around the edges of his mouth going wide around the growing grin. Hitsugaya nearly didn't hold back the sudden urge to squirm as the scientist approached him. He knew well that Kurotsuchi was borderline insane – all the man cared about was research and results, no matter what means he had to use to obtain them.

"Hitsugaya-kun," Kurotsuchi greeted, pleased. "Please don't struggle; just relax and let the drug do its work, and you won't feel any pain."

_Like hell._ Hitsugaya glared at him. He tensed anyway out of reflex as he felt Kurotsuchi's cold fingers brush the fabric of the layered haori at his throat, leaving him feel vulnerable – he couldn't turn his neck to see what the other captain was doing. With a sharp pinch and a small sting at the side of his neck – he hissed as he felt the needle go in – he found out soon enough. It was an almost sickening feeling to have the cool liquid slide smoothly under his skin, traveling throughout his body and numbing limbs and all feeling as it spread. His vision doubled and blurred; his eyelids felt like heavy weights, and thought he could see Unohana moving forward with an unnaturally infuriated look on her usually calm face when suddenly the world went black and white, and then faded to gray.

* * *

_1876_

There was a small path that diverged off the main road to the village, but it was hardly noticeable to those who didn't already know of its presence as it was nearly overgrown with long grass and weeds. The path led to a small clump of sakura trees and mossy boulders that surrounded a large pond. An old, half-rotted wooden bridge spanned the pond and through a fading orange torii and lead to an abandoned memorial shrine in honor of an ancient _kami_ that supposedly protected the sakura trees in the grove, according to the stone marking next to it. Someone had cared enough about this grove to offer the god in protection of it a memorial in the hope that it would survive the seasons untouched.

At least it had survived the war, Murae Kazuki had decided when he'd first discovered the place. It was quiet, peaceful, as if time had somehow stopped at the edge of the grove and gave this small place a sacred atmosphere. Out of respect for the shrine – and out of habit ingrained by his proud samurai heritage – he always removed his sandals at the edge of the bridge when he came here. It was a safe haven to him, somewhere he could go to be alone where the bustle of the village and his home and the shop couldn't reach him. Whenever he needed to think, he somehow always found his way here.

This time, Kazuki found his way here after a frustrating fight with his father over the treatment of a customer that had requested a sword. Murae Masahiro had refused, saying that with the upcoming sword restrictions, there would be no need for one. Besides, he hadn't wanted to get in trouble for making it. Kazuki knew that was only an excuse, as there were no laws yet against crafting blades, only restrictions on carrying them. He'd said nothing. The customer had argued the exact same point anyway. Masahiro turned him out of the shop, muttering about peasants getting uppity now that there no longer was a samurai class.

And _that_, Kazuki knew, was the real reason behind his father's obstinate decision; he'd questioned his father, and ended up getting into a similar argument in which he'd stormed out of the shop on his own volition before his father could throw him out. That was at least two hours ago, if the sun's steadily sinking location was any indication of the time.

Kazuki sighed as he sat at the edge of the bridge, under the torii, knees tucked up under his chin. He had only been seven when the samurai class had been outlawed by the new government. He hardly remembered the 'lofty life of a noble samurai', as his father seemed to refer to it as. All he remembered was the occasional argument between his mother and father that there wasn't enough food for their family, and that his father should argue with his overlord because he didn't bring in nearly enough _ryo _for the amount of land he was commanding.

But now that shouldn't matter – they were no longer samurai other than in heritage, and he was now the apprenticed son of a blacksmith who would follow in his father's trade. Gladly, as a matter of fact. If only his father would quit complaining about the lack of 'honor' in their new line of business. As far as he was concerned, his father was a fool. They now had food, and his mother never argued with Masahiro on financial issues any more. Life was going well, and he only wished his father could see past his damned stubborn pride to realize that.

_This is stupid, _Kazuki decided once the sun began to set. The air was getting chillier, and the sakura branches rustled under a small breeze. It was time to head home; his mother would be worried, and his father would be even more infuriated if he missed dinner. Stretching his legs, he slowly got to his feet, offered a quick prayer to the sakura god in thanks for protecting the grove, then turned, walked across, the bridge, and slid his sandals on before he ran the rest of the way back to his home.

When he arrived at the gate that led to his family's home, he noticed his mother was waiting for him on the steps into the house with a worried look on her face.

"I'm home… mother?" he said uncertainly, approaching her cautiously.

"Kazuki, come inside, please," his mother said curtly, with no word of greeting.

Gods, he must be in so much trouble – his mother had probably been told about the fight between him and his father, and was also likely very angry about it and the fact that he was late for dinner and came home with dirt and grime all over his face and arms from the shop and–

He realized upon entering the house after his mother, that his father was nowhere to be seen and that dinner was set only for two, not three. His father was nowhere to be seen, and when Kazuki had to think about it, he hadn't seen his father's sandals by the steps, either. His mother bid him to sit across from her, where the second dinner tray was sitting. He thanked her for the meal as he picked up his chopsticks, after his mother had done the same.

"Mother, where is—"

"Your father will not be back tonight," his mother said, an angry tone clipping her words dangerously, "nor will he be back for quite some time."

Kazuki wanted to ask where he'd gone, but knew better from his mother's expression than to ask right now. She would offer that information when she was ready. For now, the awkward silence bore down on Kazuki so heavily that he lost his appetite and could only pick at his food uncomfortably. After what seemed like an eternity – but could not have been more than a moment or so – his mother finally sighed and placed her chopsticks across the top of her barely-touched rice bowl. She was upset as well, then.

"Kazuki, you're going to need to mind the shop while your father's not here," she said quietly, tone considerably softened. "I know you're more than capable, but if you need to hire someone else to help fill orders, you may do so."

Kazuki nodded slowly, relieved that his mother wasn't angry with him, but worried that something had happened to his father. As much as he wanted to be glad his father wasn't there after their argument earlier in the afternoon, he couldn't help but feel a little guilty. Perhaps he'd pushed his father too far.

"There was a messenger in town today," his mother said suddenly. Kazuki's interest piqued, and he set down his chopsticks to listen. "He claimed he was there on behalf of Saigo Takamori."

_Saigo Taka–_ Kazuki's heart sped up and skipped a beat. Saigo Takamori, the war hero, who was currently opposing the new Meiji government. Had his father really…?

"Your father was one of thirteen in this village who went with him today."

Gods. Kazuki didn't know what to think of that news; he knew that Saigo had actively speaking out against the government's new policies on behalf of Japan's heritage, but he hadn't expected him to actually _do _anything about it. While he knew his father would feel vindicated about his samurai lineage – even, or especially, in death – this was a dangerous situation. What if the new government brought in the foreigners? Then what?

"Let me know of your decision soon, so I can make sure I budget properly," his mother said.

The sake tasted bitter, but at least it washed down the remnants of the food that suddenly seemed to stick in his throat. For the first time in a long while, he didn't finish his meal that evening.

* * *

The room blurred and swirled back into focus, but Hitsugaya felt sick to his stomach and his head pounded mercilessly as if his brain was trying to beat its way out of his skull. His throat felt raw, as if he'd either been talking for far too long without a break, or as if he'd been screaming. Not sure what had just happened, he felt his heart hammer painfully within his ribcage as if it too wanted freedom. 

_Holyshitholyshitholyshit!_

His ears were ringing, but he was sure he could hear voices murmuring around him and felt cold fingertips pressing against his face and forehead. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

"It's wearing off. Should I give him another dose?"

"Wait." And then the old man's blurry, wrinkled face appeared in front of his line of sight. "Are you with us, Toushirou?"

He couldn't find the air to answer, so instead he glared as he panted, trying to catch his breath.

"You know, I don't appreciate being lied to, Toushirou," Yama-jii continued, taking Hitsugaya's angered expression for what it was meant to be. "I know this is unpleasant, but this wouldn't be so bad if you'd just tell us."

_This wouldn't be so bad if your damned seals didn't break, old man_, Hitsugaya thought angrily. After all, it wasn't his fault that he remembered all this in the first place. He wondered why Shinigami were punished for recalling something when a seal broke in circumstances beyond their control. And damn it, he was a _captain_. This was ridiculous, and now he was pissed.

"_There's the Hitsugaya Toushirou I know,"_ the dragon said approvingly.

It took almost too much of an effort to bother speaking, but Hitsugaya managed to spit out a shaky, "A-And here I thought… we were shorthanded."

Yama-jii frowned. "Kurotsuchi-taichou."

"Yamamoto-taichou, wait!" Hitsugaya heard Unohana protest from behind him, but the cold fingers were already pinching his neck and he winced as he felt another sting at the side of his neck, and the gray world returned.

* * *

Ichigo hated Shinji's nasty grin with a passion. It meant he'd been snared; he'd been snared the moment he'd taken the bait and asked about it. 

"Information on why your Hitsugaya-_taichou_ is merely one of many pawns in this game," Shinji replied casually, picking his ear with his pinky absently. "Oh, but you don't want to know about that, do you."

Ichigo grit his teeth. Damned if Shinji already had a one-up on all of them in this situation. He must have known this for a while, and had been looking for just the right opportunity to nail him with it. But before he could open his mouth to reply, a rapidly approaching reiatsu cut him off.

"Kurosaki! What the hell are you doing? Kuchiki just called; we have to go back to the apartment, _now_."

_Ikkaku. _"Damn it," Ichigo hissed under his breath.

Shinji's smirk widened, but seemed a little more somber this time around. "I'll leave you to consider that for a while, Kurosaki Ichigo." And then he vanished.

"Kurosaki, who–"

"Shut it, Baldy," Ichigo snapped. "Let's go."

Ikkaku gave him a strange look, but said nothing further as he headed towards the apartment. Ichigo sighed as he turned to follow, but tensed when he felt the itching feeling between his shoulder blades that told him Shinji was still watching him. Shuddering slightly – the Vaizards were damned creepy, he'd already decided – he ignored the feeling otherwise and hurried after Ikkaku with a quick _shunpo_.

* * *

This had gone way too far, and Ukitake knew he wasn't the only one in the room who was outraged by what was going on. Unohana was already in Yamamoto's face about the side effects of administering too much of the foreign drugs too quickly, and the fact that Hitsugaya's body was smaller – and therefore was more sensitive to the high dosage. 

"With all due respect, sir, you're going to kill him at this rate!" she was yelling, and Ukitake couldn't help but agree as he watched Hitsugaya shudder and stare blankly across the room.

Although, he couldn't deny the fact that it was now painfully clear Hitsugaya had indeed somehow broken the seal on his memories, whether it was by accident or intentionally remained to be seen. Judging from the young captain's attitude, Ukitake had a sickening feeling that it wasn't Hitsugaya's doing.

Strange things were happening these days in Soul Society. Only days prior to the report that tipped Yamamoto off about Hitsugaya's returning memories, Komamura had been nearly put out of commission by a strange illness that caused hallucinations, and even with Unohana's skills, nothing seemed to help calm him. If Hitsugaya were to also be put out of commission…

Ukitake felt powerless, despite the fact that he had been rather confident in his own abilities. If he wasn't so ill himself, he would feel more secure about the encroaching problem of Arrancar reports. Aizen was making a rather bold move, and it clearly was becoming apparent just how deadly the situation was turning. Unlike Yamamoto, Ukitake felt that the need for strong manpower – especially captains and vice-captains, after so many of them had either been incapacitated by or had defected to Aizen's group – far outweighed the need to follow Soul Society's antiquated customs. And without a captain's presence guarding Orihime after the report of the attempted kidnapping on Aizen's part, Ukitake felt incredibly unsettled.

What was Yamamoto thinking?

"Just wipe his memory and be done with it, then!" Shunsui said angrily. Ukitake blinked, suddenly realizing that the other captain was now standing next to Unohana with an equally scathing scowl on his face. "This is pointless – you're going to put him out of commission, and we just can't afford that right now."

Yamamoto's expression remained neutral – as always, damn it – and Ukitake really wished he could tell what the man had in mind with this ridiculous interrogation. Was it simply a warning to the rest of them? For what? Hitsugaya wasn't really at fault for breaking the code, was he? Ukitake noticed that even Mayuri had paused in his actions, as if they were all waiting for an answer from the old man, tension rising rapidly in the room like a too-tight rope at breaking point. A quiet whimper from Hitsugaya seemed to snap Yamamoto back into action.

"Kurotsuchi, please continue," he said calmly.

Shunsui began to take a step forward in protest, but Unohana stuck out an arm in his way.

"Damn it," Ukitake heard Shunsui hiss, and he couldn't agree more. This was out of hand, but they couldn't do anything about it just yet. Not until Yamamoto got whatever the hell it was he wanted out of the boy.

He only fervently hoped Yama-jii would get what he wanted before Hitsugaya cracked.

* * *


	7. Part VII

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding the rights to its license and distribution (including Shueisha Jump Comics, Studio Pierrot, TV Tokyo, Viz, etc.). Used for a non-profit entertainment purpose._

_**Warnings:**__ uhh... language and a little blood this time around_

_If you have questions on any of the historical, mythological or cultural material in this chapter, don't hesitate to ask!  
_

* * *

_Sorry for the horribly long wait, folks! Ee. -hides in shame- Notes are at the end of the chapter._

_Shout-outs go to Kellen and Angelica Incarnate for letting me throw this at them in a flaily-panic for a readability check. It's not officially beta read yet, but that will change in a bit. I apologize for any glaring errors.  
_

* * *

**Part VII**

There was a brief moment of hesitation before the half-familiar world floated back to him from the dark in a pair of not-quite-identical mirrors reminiscent of a pair of "televisions" from the Living World, but nothing made any sense. Something – a whisper, a fleeting recollection – was worried about a hallway with doors, but such thoughts hurt too much to dwell upon. A deep voice rumbled in the back of his mind, a warning growl that never quite seemed to make it all the way to cognizance. Perhaps it was his own imagination that he'd heard such a thing, but when another chilling voice breathed a single word in his ear, he shuddered and looked over his shoulder to find nothing there in the darkness.

"_Choose_," it said again.

And he did, despite the insistent – muffled – guttural snarls of a beast in the shadows, selecting the mirror that seemed the most familiar. As he pressed forward, his hand slid through the cool glass and pulled him inward.

* * *

_1877_

"Kazuki."

His mother's voice was insistent from the back entrance to the smithy, abruptly catching his attention from his current project – he nearly smacked his own thumb with the hammer. He tossed her an exasperated look, which faded the moment he saw that her eyes were serious. She wanted to talk.

"Mother," he greeted. "Can this wait until dinner time?"

She bit her lip and looked away. It probably could wait, no matter how much she fidgeted in the meantime. He did have to finish his current order for a dozen horseshoes before he left, after all. After a few moments of silence, she nodded.

"Please don't stay too late."

Kazuki nodded and said goodbye, and then he sighed when his mother left. She'd become increasingly upset of late, especially since they'd had no word from his father for nearly a year now. The only word of his father's whereabouts came from the news, in which it sounded like Saigo Takamori's band was constantly on the move to escape government forces. Without his father around, Kazuki had managed to gain a reputation of his own as a blacksmith; even though he had yet to actually receive the actual title, he was treated as though he had already obtained it.

The horseshoes were an easy order; they were for the new government-run courier's office down the street. Despite the fact that nearly everyone knew Murae Masahiro was part of the group of samurai currently putting up a small resistance to the changes the government had so far made in terms of the now-disbanded samurai class, Kazuki noticed that business at the smithy hadn't diminished too horribly as a result, even if some of his clients were government workers. Like the couriers technically were.

Once Kazuki finished the last horseshoe, he placed it with the others and closed up the shop quickly before he hurried home. He was looking forward to a nice hot bath and a meal, and was so intent on thinking about such pleasantries that he hardly noticed that he'd nearly walked into the person standing by the gate at his home.

_Toushirou... _

"Kazuki-kun!"

Kazuki blinked, confused. Had he just heard another voice speaking? Shaking his head, he realized it had to have been a trick of the mind, and then a smile lit up his face as he recognized his friend.

"Y-Yori-kun! It's been a while!"

"It has, hasn't it?" Yori gave a solid _thwack_ on the back of Kazuki's shoulders in greeting. "Hoi, Kazuki, you've grown some meat on those shoulders of yours! Must be all that blacksmith work you've been doing lately."

Kazuki rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Yeah, well, somebody had to do it."

"Look at you, all grown up and running your family business, and you haven't even received your _eboshi-na_ yet!"

Shifting uncomfortably, Kazuki murmured an agreement. "What about you?" he asked suddenly. "How is your family?"

"Oh, same as always," Yori replied with half a grin. "Boring. You know how that is."

Kazuki grinned back. "I suppose I do." He looked beyond Yori's shoulder to his home. "Well, I should head on inside; my mother is waiting dinner on me. It's been great talking to you. We need to catch up properly again some time."

"I should be heading back myself," Yori agreed. "Take care, and don't wait so long before you come visit me the next time!"

Kazuki wasn't about to point out that Yori was the one who had visited him, but he was indeed grateful for the companionship, even if it was only for a matter of moments. He waved as Yori turned and began walking home. "Same to you as well. Later!"

Yori waved back over his shoulder, and for a second, his friend's image seemed to distort and fade, as if the image was unfocused. Kazuki faltered, but when he blinked several times, nothing was out of the ordinary – Yori was solid again. With a sigh, he muttered to himself about working too much and not getting enough sleep, and then he turned and trudged back towards his own home.

He was so lost in his own thought when he walked inside and called a half-hearted greeting to his mother that he almost missed the fact that there was a near feast set out in the dining area, and that there was a neatly wrapped parcel at his usual seat.

Then it clicked when he saw his mother kneeling solemnly at her usual dinner place. _Genpuku_. She wanted to give him the proper adult status, now that he was running the business and his father had shown no signs of returning yet. He was of the proper age. Heart fluttering nervously, he was suddenly both excited and scared out of his mind. He wished his father could be there.

Dinner went without much fanfare, and Kazuki found that the parcel contained a new set of clothing in the adult style. He was sure his mother would tackle his hair once they'd finished their supper.

Which she did, though shaving parts of the head – once part of tradition – was now an outdated practice with the passing of the samurai class. Then, as according to tradition, she had him get dressed into his new clothing, and they took the short walk to a nearby shrine, a tribute to the Murae family's patron kami Ryujin. The Murae line was supposedly a long-distant branch family of the Imperial court, but Kazuki had his doubts.

The shrine was quiet at night, lit only by a smattering of paper lanterns as Kazuki and his mother each tossed coins into the altar and performed the praying ritual. While Kazuki was praying, he shivered; he could have sworn he felt the cool, icy breath and deep, rumbling voice of something that couldn't be seen by the naked eye.

"_Toushirou..."_

Shuddering again, he finished his prayer and looked up at the shrine. His mother turned to him with a wry smile, and he knew that she too would have wished for Masahiro to be present for this small – but very important – ceremony. He probably would have insisted making a larger deal out of it than she had.

Then his mother gave him his adult name: _Masaru._

She had probably discussed with his father a long time ago what name they would give their son once he came of age. It needed to be something that would contain a piece of his father, and yet would set himself apart as an individual adult. The name also acknowledged his natural business sense; it gave him a small measure of pride to know that his mother had such confidence in him.

The ceremony had been simple, quick, and yet it was a huge moment for Kazuki – now Masaru. His mother was a brave woman to attempt it alone; but hadn't the famous samurai Toyotomi Hideyoshi had only his mother perform his genpuku? That thought made him feel a little more at ease about his father's absence during such an important moment.

The following weeks went by in much of a blur; now that Masaru was an adult, he was also officially a full-fledged blacksmith, head of the family business. Because of his new status, he received more orders than he ever had before. And the busier he became, the more strange his dreams and daydreams became.

It had started at first with the quiet, smooth voice calling a name he didn't recognize, but he felt like he should. And on occasion, he was sure he caught sight of a strange-looking room, filled with contraptions and people who were only half-familiar, and on those occasions he always came back to reality covered in sweat and gasping for air.

He blamed it on the amount of time he was putting into his work. Maybe he should find an apprentice for himself, or at least someone else capable of assisting him as he filled the orders. He would have to discuss that decision with his mother, who – although he was technically head of the family – still held the purse strings. Finance was a woman's job, anyway.

Masaru had nearly forgotten his promise to catch up again later with his friend Yori until Yori came strutting into his shop one day as Masaru was closing the shop; he was wearing his adult clothes and looking rather proud of himself.

"Murae-kun," Yori greeted.

"It's Masaru now, my friend," Masaru replied with a grin.

Yori's parents had given him the name Masao, which fit Yori's straightforward and honest personality quite well. After Masaru closed the shop, he followed Masao to the nearest tavern for a drink before he headed home. The two friends chatted amicably about how different the town seemed now, and mused about how much each had grown since they'd last played together as children. It seemed almost surreal to Masaru.

As they were enjoying each other's companionship, however, several government officials – newly-appointed and wearing the bizarre Western style of clothing – stumbled in, drunk, arguing about some sort of problem that was going on in the office. Masaru tensed when he heard the name _Saigo Takamori _flung about, and started trying to listen to more of what they were arguing about, hoping to catch some word of how his father might be faring. Masao seemed to notice his friend's discomfort and also began to turn a listening ear to the conversation at hand.

"The man's a lunatic!" one of the officials insisted, waving a finger in the air as if it would give his statement more credibility. "He's obviously so crazy that he doesn't even realize that the samurai class just doesn't exist anymore."

"He still managed to take down an entire division of infantry," a second man pointed out. "He's certainly got the advantage of battle experience; none of you men can deny that."

"I think he's _too _old-fashioned," said another. "He's getting old and senile and stuck in his ways; he was one of the few samurai who actually did well on the old system, you know how old folks get. They don't like progress; don't trust it or the foreigners. If he could just see the error in his way of thinking and open up his mind a little, he wouldn't be putting up such a fight. And if he's not fighting us, then we wouldn't be losing so many men to him."

"Why do you two even think Saigo's a threat?" a fourth said irritably. "He's got his little band of buddies who still think the sword is the way to go. Who cares that they won one tiny skirmish? That was simply a matter of inexperience on the part of our soldiers. They've been trained now, and besides, we've got an entire armory of foreign weapons. We all know that swords are nothing against a well-trained rifle division." The man knocked back the cup of sake he had been nursing. "They're not going to last long, once they make their final stand. It's only a matter of time, and after he's gone, he'll disappear from the map like the little bug he is."

Masaru sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, fist clenching. He might not agree with his father's philosophy on life, but his father wasn't simply some bug to be squashed by the government! He didn't even realize his lips were curled in a snarl until Masao placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. Forcing himself to relax, he nodded back at his friend, and the two of them paid their tab and quickly left the inn before Masaru changed his mind.

"I'm really sorry about that, Masaru," Masao said once they were a ways down the road. "Have you heard any news from your father at all?"

"No," Masaru replied quietly. "But that's fine; Mother and I are getting along well enough on our own right now."

"Let me know if you two need anything," his friend offered as they approached Masaru's home. "I'm still in the same home as always."

"Thank you," Masaru said, offering a wry smile for Masao's sake.

The two bid their farewell, and Masaru walked inside, prepared to apologize to his mother for coming home later than usual. She would probably be worried, but not upset; he was an adult now and could make his own decisions after he got off of work. However, he was surprised to find his home eerily dark and silent as he walked in and announced his return.

"Mother?" he called uncertainly, and was met with silence.

The dining room was dark, as was his mother's quarters. But as he looked through the back courtyard to see if she was in the garden, he saw a dim light coming from the dojo. Quietly approaching, he slid open the door to find his mother kneeling – seemingly in meditation – her back to him. As he approached her from behind, he saw that there was a suit of samurai armor sitting in front of her – _familiar _samurai armor.

His father's.

And then he knew exactly what had happened. His father wouldn't be returning in this life. Placing a hand on his mother's shoulders, he noticed that she was trembling with quiet sobs. So strong, his mother was – trying so hard not to show weakness in front of her son. He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze, swallowing the bile that had suddenly found its way to the back of his throat. Quietly, he took the armor from her and rearranged it properly, placing the familiar swords on an engraved wood rack just above them as he quietly vowed to build a shrine in his father's memory.

Several weeks later, small shrine built and mother finally beginning to overcome her shock, they received word that Saigo Takamori's small band of renegade samurai had been put down. Masaru couldn't help but feel a sudden stab of worry that things were going to change for the worse.

* * *

Ukitake didn't want to watch anymore. 

In all the years he'd known the younger captain, he'd never seen him this… _weak_-looking. The boy was sweating heavily, face pale and lips drawn into a pinched, pained line, and he looked like he was having trouble getting air by the way his chest was heaving. For a time, the boy stared dully at nothing and was mumbling quietly in words that made absolutely no sense – doubtful the boy was even speaking Japanese, but that thought was even more troubling. Ukitake tore his eyes away from Hitsugaya and fixed them upon Yamamoto, brow furrowing. The older man had an infuriatingly flat expression as he regarded Hitsugaya, an expression that betrayed nothing of the man's thoughts. In all the centuries that Ukitake had trained under and then served the elderly man, he had never seen him do something this heartless without a just cause. Ukitake was scrambling to find one now, and thus far had come up with fistfuls of air.

The crescendo of Hitsugaya's incoherent muttering brought Ukitake's attention back to him, and his eyes widened as he realized that the voice coming from the young man wasn't speaking Japanese after all. In fact, the voice that now came from Hitsugaya's trembling lips was far deeper than it should have been; Ukitake wasn't sure that it was actually Hitsugaya speaking now. Ukitake felt something clench in his chest as he shot a questioning glance at Yamamoto.

Yamamoto's eyes were still fixed upon the boy; the old man's expression hadn't changed from before, and Ukitake wanted some answers. Shunsui shuddered from beside him, and Ukitake guessed that his friend was thinking the same thing: Yamamoto knew something that they didn't.

A sudden whimper from Hitsugaya brought Ukitake's attention back to the younger captain once more. He was starting to struggle against his bonds, his words becoming even louder and less coherent than they had been earlier. Ukitake saw Yamamoto nod curtly at Kurotsuchi once before he stepped forward.

"It has begun," Yamamoto said in a low voice. "Kyouraku-taichou, Ukitake-taichou – I'm going to need your support."

Shunsui spat in irritation, but Ukitake could tell that he too was shaken by the situation. Either something was horribly wrong with Hitsugaya, or Yamamoto was torturing him needlessly. Again, Ukitake recalled the long history he'd had serving under Yamamoto, and had to wonder if there was something more to this situation than they were being told.

Hitsugaya suddenly shrieked as they approached, and then his head limply fell forward, chin resting on his chest.

"Hitsugaya-taichou?" Ukitake said as he approached, a hint of worried tremor shaking his voice.

Hitsugaya's head snapped up, eyes gleaming with a deep red that replaced the usual icy turquoise, too-broad lips curled in a snarl. A symbol that looked eerily similar to a Chinese yin and yang appeared on the young captain's forehead. Without a single word of warning, Hitsugaya began shouting words that made no sense at all, and the voice that came from Hitsugaya's mouth was far too low to be his. He thrashed against the binding spells.

And then it occurred to Ukitake. _That's not Hitsugaya._

* * *

_1879_

Masaru visited his mother's grave on his way back home from the smithy. It had become a ritual for him for the last six months since her death; he often found himself wondering if she had died from a broken heart, or perhaps from the shame she claimed her late husband had brought their family. Masaru had a feeling that the second issue was a lie, since he could tell in his mother's eyes that she missed Masahiro desperately. Perhaps it had been her way of warning him to be careful, especially considering the newer laws that had been passed.

After Saigo's rebellion had been "taken care of," as the government so lightly put it, there had been new precautionary laws put in place that were a blatant warning sign from the government to its civilians against any further old-school uprisings. At first, there had been a large restriction placed upon katana forging, and that eventually turned into an outright ban on carrying swords. Masaru knew that he wasn't breaking the law simply by having his father's swords at his shrine, but he had always been extremely careful to say nothing about them and keep them out of the general eye of anyone who might give him trouble about it just in case.

His new wife, however, was not particularly fond of the idea of having them there. She said he was asking for trouble, and that he should get rid of them. Chie never quite seemed to understand the heritage that the swords symbolized for him; she wasn't of samurai descent, as he was. And although he didn't particularly wish to associate himself with such a lineage in the face of the public, he did feel that he should give some kind of homage to his ancestors.

Besides, there hadn't been much of a concern about the sword ban until much more recently. The only ones who were allowed to carry swords were designated police units, and even then, they carried blades fashioned after the Western style rather than the traditional Japanese. It was probably a symbolic choice; represent progress and open borders rather than promote the old style of Japanese samurai life. For some reason, the government had seen fit to send a sword police unit to their village; it didn't matter that they were quite a ways away from the new capital of Tokyo, and that there hardly was any trouble there. Masaru had a sinking feeling that they'd known of the fact that a good dozen samurai in Saigo's group had come from this village, and that they would want to keep an eye out here in case any of their offspring had the grand idea of foolishly following in their fathers' footsteps.

At first, the sword police generally minded their own business. Hardly anyone here had swords nowadays; most of the leftover samurai families had lost theirs with their fathers, or had destroyed them in shame and disgust (or perhaps out of fear). But as time passed and not much happened, Masaru could tell by the ever-increasing number of small... _incidents _in the streets that they were getting bored with the inactivity. Villagers began to fear the police once they began roughing up more people for no apparent reason. But the more the villagers showed fear, the more vicious the police seemed to become. It was as if they were playing a game, a rather violent and disgusting round of cat and mouse. Masaru knew he would have to be extremely careful around them, especially since his father had been one of the dozen who had joined Saigo.

Unfortunately, his line of business didn't allow as much escape; on occasion, he would have police as customers in his smithy. Most of them involved sword repairs – Western blades were far inferior to Japanese-style ones, Masaru quickly learned – but some involved more horseshoes for carriages and mounted units. For a while, Masaru had nothing to fear from them. His work had a reputation for being the best in the area, and many of his customers from the police units became repeat customers. For a business, growth was an excellent thing, but for an ex-samurai, such customers were bound to bring trouble to his doorstep.

When some of his newer police customers began to pressure and bully him – and then underpay him for reasons he didn't even understand – he figured that someone had slipped out the fact that he was ex-samurai. Or perhaps someone in the ranks had figured it out. The worse the bullying became, the more tempted he became to weaken the blades coming in for repair.

He couldn't help that he was losing sleep over the issue. Now that he had a wife to protect, he was scared to death of having them go after her while he was at work, or having them come barge in on their estate at night. Although the police had yet to kill anyone outright – aside from execution, which was handled by government officials rather than the police – there was always that lingering fear that they'd start with him and his wife. He couldn't count on the government to reel in all of their stray dogs, no matter how much they'd promised peace. Police were human, and every bit as corruptible as the rest of humanity.

Masaru's fears grew one day when the sword police unit's leader waltzed into his smithy, asking for a repair on his sword in a lilting accent that was clearly not from this half of the country. The leader didn't look anything like what Masaru had expected him to look like; he had the most unique color of hair Masaru had ever seen on anyone purely Japanese, which led him to think that maybe this man was only half, or had some kind of disease that gave his hair more the color of an older man's. It was slicked back under the uniform cap, a few stray strands falling into the man's face. The man smiled so broadly that his eyes were fixed in a near-permanent squint, but there was something dangerous in what should have been a friendly gesture; Masaru couldn't help but feel that it was a sign of deceptiveness.

Shoving his personal feelings aside, Masaru took the order as he would with any other customer – the man wanted his sword repaired by the next day. The blade had been cracked near the hilt, threatening the integrity of the sword. Payment would come when the man returned the next day to retrieve his weapon.

Masaru barely had the presence of mind to hold back an audible sigh of relief when the man left. There was something about the way that the leader had looked at him that made him incredibly uneasy, as if he knew exactly who Masaru was, and that he was sizing him up as a potential enemy. Sleep probably wouldn't come easy that night.

As he worked on the leader's sword, Masaru wondered what the man had been doing to cause the sword to crack like it had... and then he decided he really didn't want to know the answer to that. Western blades are poorly-made, he reminded himself. If he didn't distrust the man so much, he probably would have reinforced the blade as he fixed it to make it stand up better, but he had no way of knowing if that same blade would be turned on him for his efforts.

This time, Masaru did sigh. He was being too paranoid, he told himself. He'd never seen that man before–

For some reason, the thought wouldn't finish itself, because for a brief moment, the man's image – hair down, clad in traditional garb, same eerie leer etched on his face – came to mind. But he couldn't remember when he'd seen this man like that. A rumbling voice in the back of his mind told him not to trust this man, though that same voice – he'd heard it far more often of late, and it was starting to frighten him – had told him not to trust anything he was seeing right now anyway. Did that mean he shouldn't trust the idea that he'd seen the man before, or was it talking about reality? Gods, he was confused.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

"_You're in the dark, Toushirou. Let me guide you."_

Shuddering, he knew he had to be going crazy. It had to be the lack of sleep – maybe he really should take Chie's advice and close the shop for a few days after he returned the leader's sword to him. If she said he could do it, then they probably had the financial ability for him to do so right now.

Blade reforged and repaired, Masaru inspected his work before he polished it. Once that task had been handled with the greatest care he'd dare put into it, he sheathed the sword and placed it in a proper holding case that slid under one of his workbenches. Wiping his hands and face with an already-soiled cloth, he decided that the best thing to do for now would be to go home, take a nice bath, and enjoy his wife's company.

She would be pleased to hear he was taking a few days off.

Chie was a wonderful woman, Masaru decided when he arrived home to find a bath drawn, and dinner nearly ready to eat. His wife was a wonderful cook, even better than his mother had been – and that was saying _something_, especially after the way his mother had ridden Chie's case for several months after their marriage to make sure she was fully capable of taking care of her only son. Maybe she had a feeling that he'd had a rough day, or that she had read his mind on his decision to take some time off.

And she _was _pleased to hear about his self-imposed mini-vacation. She even offered to make the signs for him to put up the next day so that his customers would know he wasn't going to be in for a few days. It was times like these that he was reminded that he had to be extremely careful, because he had something to lose.

The next morning, Masaru felt a little more resolved to face any challenge the leader might throw his way before their final business transaction had been processed. He had a strange, bad feeling that something wasn't going to go well that day.

Much to Masaru's surprise, the leader paid him the full amount he cited with no questions asked, and when Masaru handed him the blade, he simply looked it up and down and commented on the excellent repair work. Masaru replied with customary humility, but in all honesty he was incredibly relieved to see that the man wasn't going to give him any trouble. Yet.

There was something hiding under that wickedly friendly grin.

After bidding his customers farewell, Masaru took the signs that Chie had written up for him and posted them outside his shop, and he stayed until just past midday before he decided to close up shop. It was a slow day, and he honestly couldn't wait to get home.

If Masaru had been surprised at not having any trouble during his transaction that morning, he was even more surprised at finding the sword police unit's leader waiting casually outside his home, casually leaning on the wall surrounding the properly. He was alone, smiling – when did that man _not _smile? – as Masaru approached.

"Can I help you, sir?" Masaru asked as he approached. "If my work was less than satisfactory–"

"Oh, not at all," the leader said, tone just as casual as his stance. "I just am wondering what sort of man you are, for having such a broad knowledge of sword repair."

Masaru could have sworn his heart stopped for a moment. Swallowing, he replied as evenly as he could manage, "I would imagine that most blacksmiths should know how to handle sword repairs, at least to an extent. My humble workmanship is nothing compared to the work of a true sword smith."

"But the son of a samurai would understand blades," the leader retorted.

Masaru froze. "What do you want from me, sir?"

"Just offering a little word of advice," the man said, leaning in closely to whisper his next words. "Protect that which is close to you, for you'll never know when it'll be gone, _Hitsugaya._"

The final name stung with familiar ice. Masaru's eyes flew wide, mouth opening in protest, but suddenly the leader was gone, as if he'd vanished into thin air. What the hell had just happened? Had the man mistaken him for someone else?

"_Hitsugaya Toushirou."_

He was going insane. He knew it. Voices just didn't speak in a sane person's mind, and people just didn't _disappear_ like that.

Chie greeted him with a more than welcome smile as he walked into the back courtyard. She was hanging laundry, but she stopped when her eyes met his, and dropped the linen she was washing back into its wash tub.

"Darling? Is everything all right?" she asked, approaching him cautiously.

"Y-Yeah," he said, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice. He swallowed, mouth dry and tongue thick.

"You're shaking like a leaf!" Chie exclaimed, her eyes going wide with worry as she grasped his hands. "Come inside and let me make you some tea."

As much as he wanted to, Masaru knew it wouldn't help. He suddenly needed to get away. "I-I'm going to go on a walk," he said. "I'll be back in time for dinner."

He left his wife – beautiful, sweet Chie – standing with a worried expression as he hurried out the back gate on their property. _I'm so sorry, my love_, and he hoped she would know that with her mind-reading trick.

Masaru didn't know where his feet were leading him, but after a while he recognized the path to the small shrine in the sakura grove. He hadn't been there in several years, and he'd never even noticed how close it was to the shrine to Ryujin until he saw the fork in the path. One direction would take him to the shelter of the sakura grove, the other would take him to Ryujin.

He was an adult now, with Ryujin's blessing – the sakura kami had been his childhood protector, even if he'd never really thought of it that way. With a silent prayer of apology and thanks to the sakura kami, he took the path to Ryujin's shrine.

"I thought you'd find your way here," a familiar voice suddenly said the moment Masaru stepped towards the first orange _torii_ that started the long stretch of them at the shrine's entrance.

Masaru whirled to face his friend. "Masao," he said, voice low. "What are you doing here?"

"He came 'cause I asked 'im to," another eerily familiar voice said from behind him. Masaru felt his shoulders tense as a thin-boned, cold hand rested upon his shoulder. "Now I know you ain't stupid. Surely ya've figured out what all-a this is about."

"You knew my father," Masaru tried, shaking the man's hand off his shoulder, but then that didn't explain why Masao was there. "Either that, or he told you all about him."

And if that was the case, Masaru wondered why Masao had chosen to get him in trouble.

"Tsk." The policeman shook his head. "Wrong answer, kiddo. Here, lemme give ya a hint, since I'm such a _nice _fella... don't-cha think, Hitsugaya-taichou?"

"I think you have me confused with someone else," he said, but the words sounded flat even to him. This man knew exactly who he was talking to.

"Mm, I reck'n ya just _wish_ that was the case, little taichou. Here, lemme refresh yer memory jus' a little. Surely you know my name?"

_Gin. _Masaru wasn't sure why, but the name stuck out heavily in his mind. _His name is Ichimaru Gin, and he's going to kill you if you're not careful._

"What the hell is this all about?" Masaru hissed.

"Ah, so ya _do_ know." Gin looked him up and down. "Or at least yer gettin' there."

"Why is Masao here? Clearly, your issue is with me."

"Oh, little taichou, are ya really that blind? Masao ain't what you think he is."

Masaru snorted, casting a withering glare at his friend. "Yeah. I'm starting to see that."

Masao's lips curled up into an unnaturally wicked grin, teeth pointed and sharp. Masaru paused, sensing that something wasn't right. The voice in the back of his mind was hissing sharply in caution, telling him to call upon it.

_It. _A dragon's majestic face came to mind. _Ryujin?_

"Well, it's clear yer on the right track, kiddo. But since I don't want ya to go further than ya've already gone..."

Suddenly, Masao crowed with wicked glee with a voice that didn't sound like his, and his body grew and distorted until it became a huge beast with a porcelain mask and sharp claws. Masaru watched with eyes wide as sake dishes as the shadow of his friend – _is that really Masao?_ – grew around him.

"_Get to the shrine!"_

Masaru scrambled to his feet and tried to run to the long line of _torii_, but with a sharp blow, he was suddenly airborne. His back hit something solid with breath-stealing force, and he crumpled to the ground with a hiss of pain. When the stars cleared, he saw that Gin was watching him with arms crossed, that damned grin permanently etched into his face. Masaru felt the sudden need to wipe it from the man's face.

"Now, now, sit still and this'll all be over right quick," Gin said as if he was scolding a child. "Ya shoulda realized some time ago that yer friend Masao was dead. M'men were gettin' fidgety; had to give 'em somethin' to toy with while I waited on ya."

It was then that Masaru realized he'd seen this before. _This isn't where I died, and Masao wasn't a Hollow. _

_Hollow._ He knew exactly what it was that Masao had been turned into. And suddenly, the name made perfect sense – it was him. _Hitsugaya Toushirou_ was his name now, and this place was _completely wrong. _Suddenly, he looked up at Gin with burning fury. That absolute _bastard_ had something to do with all the things that were wrong here in his memory. He stood on shaky feet, crouching into a more familiar stance that his father had never been able to teach him in life. He was a _shinigami_, a being of the dead, and a captain.

"_Toushirou – call on me!"_

But before he could even say Hyourinmaru's name, Gin's smile left him – he'd done that to the man once before, hadn't he? – and Hollow-Masao disappeared. Sharp, blinding pain blossomed from the center of his chest. Looking down, he saw the claw of Hollow-Masao breaking through the skin of his chest, dripping with his own blood. Gin's smile returned.

"Well, ya tried, little taichou," he leered. "It was fun while it lasted." And then he was gone.

The deathly cold breath of the Hollow behind him sent a shudder down Hitsugaya's spine, and he cried out as the claw twisted in his back before the Hollow yanked it away. He fell to his knees, the world quickly fading to black around him, and all he could think about was how _wrong _all this was, and was that a dragon coming towards him?

Instead of fading, the world about him shattered.

* * *

The only sound in the darkness was his own harsh wheezing as he tried to draw breath. Pain shot through his chest in the same spot where the Hollow had driven its clawed hand through it, but when he pressed his hand to where the wound should have been, he felt no blood even around the residual pain. Over the sound of rushing blood in his ears and his own breathing, he could barely hear a familiar voice calling to him in the back of his mind. 

"_Toushirou! Get a hold of yourself! Call on me; I can guide you through the dark if you'd just let me. Listen to me–"_

_The dragon speaks a lie. _This voice was much louder and much closer than Hyourinmaru's, and it sent a shudder down Hitsugaya's spine.

"Who are you?" Hitsugaya asked, his own voice sounding thin and weary in his ears.

"_Don't listen to it, Toushirou!"_

_It doesn't matter who I am; the question is _what _I am._

Sharp pain stabbed into his skull, and Hitsugaya clutched his head with his hands and groaned.

"_Toushirou!"_

_Stay back in your pen, lizard,_ the other voice snapped.

Hitsugaya felt something feathery-soft and alive – _but too cold to be human –_ grasp at his arms, dragging him through the darkness. Hyourinmaru's warnings faded into the distance until Hitsugaya wasn't sure he could hear him anymore, but before he could protest that fact, the twin mirrors from before appeared once again. The one he had gone through the first time was now shattered, and from the mirrors' light he saw small shards of glass embedded into the skin of his right hand. He didn't even remember hitting the mirror with it. He also saw the hell behind the second mirror, and began to shrink away as hands from the nightmarish figures there reached for him.

_This is your path._

"N-No!"

_You don't have a choice, boy._

The more Hitsugaya struggled against the hands, the harder they grabbed onto his limbs and pulled, even to the point of pain. He didn't care; he _knew _that the second mirror was not a place he wanted to go.But the hands were too strong, and he was too exhausted and in pain to free himself from them – with a sharp tug, they pulled him in through the mirror, and Hitsugaya knew he was in hell.

* * *

_**Misc. Notes:**_

_eboshi-na_: adult name given upon _genpuku_/_kakan_

_genpuku_: (also, _kakan_) the Japanese coming-of-age ceremony for boys, usually between the ages of 12 and 16 in which the child becomes an adult with the receipt of adult clothing, adult hairstyle, and an adult name (_eboshi-na_)

_kami_: Japanese Shinto folk deities

_Ryujin_: dragon kami, also god of the sea and is believed to have been one of the ancestors of the imperial line

_sword ban_: the Haitoh edict of 1876 placed a ban on the carrying of swords in public by anyone except for military officers, police officers, and those in formal uniform

_torii_: traditional Japanese gates that are often found at the entrances to Shinto shrines (and sometimes Buddhist temples as well) that are said to keep the unclean out of the shrine and purify those who wish to come pray to the kami (or Buddha)

_I have not forgotten the band in the Living World, or in Yamamoto's office. There will be a great deal of explanation within the next two chapters; please hang on tight and hold your questions on those for now!_

* * *


	8. Part VIII

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding the rights to its license and distribution (including Shueisha Jump Comics, Studio Pierrot, TV Tokyo, Viz, etc.). Used for a non-profit entertainment purpose._

_**Warnings:**__ language, blood, brain-breakery... basically, I'm not a very nice writer._

_If you have questions on any of the historical, mythological or cultural material in this chapter, don't hesitate to ask them!  
_

* * *

_**.notes.**_

_banshou issai kaijin to nase_: lit., "Disintegrate All Existence" – Yamamoto's _shikai _(a zanpakutou's first release)

_Hadou _(shinigami demon arts)_ Kyuu-jyuu (90): Kurohitsugi _(black coffin) – this is an actual canon hadou, by the by.

_Karura_: in Japanese religious lore, one of the 8 Legion, part of the Tenbu charged with upholding Buddhist law, and part of the 28 Legion guarding the 1000-armed Kannon that originally came from Hindu origins in India; an enormous fire-breathing eagle-man with golden feathers and magic gems crowning its head whose mortal enemy is the naga (snakes, dragons, etc.); also known to feed upon the naga, and it is said that only naga who have Buddhist talismans or have converted to Buddhism can escape Karura

_Sougyo no Kotowari_: lit., "Parable of the twin fish"; the name of Ukitake's twin-bladed zanpakutou

* * *

_**Part VIII**_

It was unexpectedly quiet at Orihime's apartment after Hitsugaya had been escorted back to Seireitei. The young taichou wasn't much of a noise-maker or a party animal, but the absence of his presence seemed to put a damper on the atmosphere. Then again, the circumstances in which Hitsugaya had been summoned were not pleasant. Matsumoto wished they would at least give her an update. It had been almost twenty-four hours since he'd left.

Rukia's stern lecture had reminded her earlier that she needed to keep a level head about the situation, but she was still worried. Worried enough that she'd tackled the massive amounts of paperwork on Hitsugaya's borrowed desk in order to take her mind off of the things she didn't really want to think about, and on to something productive.

She lasted an hour, if that. But in her own defense, she would have kept working on it if Renji hadn't come in to see what she was up to.

"Looks like we've got a house full of the brooding type," Renji said offhandedly, picking at his ear casually with a pinky. "I thought we'd have less of that without Hitsugaya-taichou around, but looks like it must be part of the job description."

He said it in jest, but she shot him a glare regardless. Bringing up the captain at this point wasn't helping her mood at all, and Renji's casual air faded to a cowed grimace. Matsumoto sighed; this wasn't going well at all.

"Where is Orihime-chan?" she asked neutrally, trying to both change the subject and remind Renji that she did have a job to do.

"She's with Urahara-san; said something about training or whatnot."

"Did Rukia go with her?"

Renji sighed, catching the hint of a reminder of Matsumoto's rules. At least one of the shinigami under Hitsugaya's command was to stay with Orihime at all times; two, if they could afford it. "No, but Ikkaku did. He wanted in on the training part. Oh, and Chad's been a regular at Urahara's of late, from hearsay."

Matsumoto nodded, trying to relax the tension in her shoulders and failing miserably.

"Look, Ran-chan, they'll contact us when something happens," Renji said. Matsumoto tensed further, feeling a little frustrated at herself that she couldn't even keep her thoughts in check enough to put on a mask so much like her captain did. "I'm sure if something was seriously wrong, they would have at least let us know about it."

Renji was probably right. "I know," she said with a sigh, "but I'd still like to get some kind of a progress report. Shouldn't they be... _done _by now?"

Done with the memory-wiping procedure – it was left unspoken, but by now the entire detail knew at least a little about what had happened. They'd had the right to know that something was up with their captain, and so Matsumoto had told them the bare basics. Something had broken the seal on Hitsugaya's memories, and Yamamoto was going to take care of the problem.

But what had been left unspoken as well – and yet was mutually understood – was that there were widely-known rumors that the procedure was less than pleasant, if not downright brutal. Hitsugaya had known that as well, and seemed ready to face the consequences.

_Except... _Except she remembered how quiet his voice had been when he'd said, _"I'm not sure I want to forget them again," _and it shook her belief that Hitsugaya was truly prepared. He might be a strong, smart captain, but the downside to being a prodigy was the fact that he was so _young_. She didn't think it was right of Yamamoto to enforce such an old rule, especially in light of the more recent events with Aizen's betrayal and the following chaos it had caused.

"I don't know," Renji replied solemnly. "I really don't know how the procedure works."

It was time to change the subject, Matsumoto decided. "Please tell me there was a reason you came to harass me," she said suddenly. "You brought the good stuff, didn't you?"

Renji's cheeks flushed ever so slightly, and then he held up a bottle of sake with a sheepish grin. "Caught," he said lightly, waving it around.

"We really shouldn't be drinking on the job."

"Never stopped you before," the redhead muttered.

Matsumoto managed a mockingly offended look. "I didn't know you thought so little of me," she said with a sniff. Then she pointed an accusing finger at him. "Why is it that every time _you_ come around, we drink? We should get some company. But not Ichigo – he's too young. Where is Yumichika? He may be feeling better, but Hime-chan said he still shouldn't do much until tomorrow. And I _know _he likes a good cup of hot sake." She knew she was nearly babbling, but somehow just talking about nothing helped.

Renji snorted. "He's taking his time in the bath."

"Figures. Well, more for us!" Matsumoto grinned. _Yes, this is a healthy idea. Really, it is._

The break – from paperwork, dark discussions, _thinking –_ was a welcome one, but even the pleasant buzz from the alcohol wasn't enough to entirely keep Matsumoto's worries at bay. It did, however, manage to push them to the side for the time being. They probably would let her know if something serious was happening, she rationalized, and she could wait until then.

* * *

_This is a nightmare. This is a _nightmare_. I can't be seeing this._

It was a mantra running wildly in Ukitake's head as he watched Hitsugaya's body thrash more, the inhuman snarling in his throat growing louder even around the strange incantations coming from the boy's trembling lips. Blood welled at his wrists, his struggles against the invisible bonds so strong that it was causing skin to part against the air.

Was this Yamamoto's doing? Why would Yamamoto want to do this to Hitsugaya over some recalled memories? Sure, Ukitake knew all about the last shinigami that had managed to break the seal on her memories. That too had been a hellish memory, but Ukitake didn't remember Yamamoto using any sort of torture methods on her. The simple task of resealing the memories had been unpleasant, but Yamamoto hadn't been intentionally cruel, even though it was quite obvious that the shinigami's memories would cause a great deal of conflict between her and another shinigami in her division who had happened to share a bad life history with her.

That was the reason they had such a rule in the first place – it was there as a failsafe, in case there were shinigami who happened to have been enemies in their previous lives that would cause a problem with them working together after their deaths. It was a measure for peace among the ranks, so that old personal grudges wouldn't color the ability to work as a team. Of course, new grudges were always bound to come up when living in such close quarters with other people – shinigami were dead, not perfect – but at least the previous baggage could be left behind.

Whatever it was that Hitsugaya had remembered... surely it wasn't so bad that he had to be tortured like this. It couldn't be; the fact that he'd had his memories back for some time now – from the reports, at least, that's what it had sounded like – and it hadn't caused a problem save for that one lapse the other day should be proof enough that Hitsugaya was capable of handling such knowledge with discretion. Didn't Yamamoto see that?

Yamamoto's face was still infuriatingly blank, devoid of any indication of what the man was thinking. His hand, however, had moved to his zanpakutou. Surely he wasn't intending to kill the boy! Ukitake opened his mouth to protest, but Yamamoto suddenly stopped in his tracks when a deep, throaty chuckle bubbled from Hitsugaya's lips.

"You think this will be enough to stop me, old man?"

"Draw your zanpakutou," Yamamoto ordered, ignoring the taunt.

Shunsui cast Ukitake a questioning glance before he pulled his zanpakutou from its sheath, and Ukitake followed suit. Whatever it was they were up against right now, it was powerful. Ukitake only hoped that Yamamoto wasn't expecting to kill Hitsugaya; he wasn't sure if he could follow such an order, should it be given.

"Intimidation, huh? You do know that if I die, the boy will go with me," the voice sneered.

Ukitake couldn't help but look in Yamamoto's direction at that comment, but he should have known by now that Yamamoto simply didn't display his thoughts in any sort of way, unless he meant to. He obviously didn't mean to now; likely because of this _thing –_ whatever it was that had clearly possessed Hitsugaya – watching.

What was it, anyway?

"You'd do well to leave the boy now, Karura," Yamamoto said, his voice icily serious.

_Karura? _Where had he heard that name before?

"Do you–" Shunsui began to ask the same question that was on Ukitake's mind, but never got a chance to when 'Karura' cut him off with a cackle.

Perhaps it was a trick of Ukitake's mind, but it sounded an awful lot like a crow's taunting call.

"Ah, so you _do _remember me, old man. Then you should know why I am here."

"Leave the boy now, or we will be forced to extract you," Yamamoto warned.

Karura cackled again. "Such an unfriendly host, geezer. I couldn't care less what happens to the brat, but if you insist on throwing me out the door, he goes to hell with me."

"_Banshou issai kaijin to nase_," Yamamoto murmured, summoning the shikai of his zanpakutou without blinking an eye.

Ukitake and Shunsui exchanged a nod before they each called upon the first release of their dual-bladed zanpakutou with poetry, and they moved forward to support their leader. By now, it was clear that this wasn't Yamamoto's doing – he had probably known all along what the real problem had been with Hitsugaya. Ukitake still was curious as to why Yamamoto hadn't said anything to Hitsugaya about it sooner, but the man must have had his reasons.

And now wasn't the time to be thinking upon them.

Karura screeched, but Ukitake couldn't determine if it was out of laughter or anger. "It's been a long time since I've had such a challenge," Karura said, twisting Hitsugaya's lips in a smirk. "Let's see what you _shinigami_ can do."

"Kurotsuchi–"

Yamamoto only had to say the man's name before he pulled a beaker full of what looked like water off of Yamamoto's desk. Mayuri hadn't seemed ruffled at all by what was going on – as usual, he had a look of fascinated curiosity as he watched the scene unfold, but even he knew when to stop observing and start obeying. He splashed the clear liquid on Hitsugaya, and Karura shrieked in pain as smoke rose from the boy's pale skin as if the liquid had been acid.

"Damn you!" Karura roared, forcing Hitsugaya's hands to scrabble against the armrests and the bonds until they began to give. "_Damn _you, you old geezer!"

"This is the end of the road, Karura," Yamamoto said.

"Like hell it is!"

And suddenly, the chair seemed to explode before them, sending splinters flying through the office. Ukitake raised his arms to block the debris from his face, but just above the cloud of dust the chair had become, he saw Hitsugaya's smirking face flying at him, red eyes gleaming in murderous rage. He barely had time to block the blow, shoving against Karura's claws with both blades of Sougyo no Kotowari and sending Hitsugaya's body across the room. He landed on his feet in a low crouch, one hand on the ground in support.

Shunsui wasted no time charging in after Karura, and from the corner of Ukitake's vision, he saw Unohana's lips moving in a silent chant for what he hoped was an insanely strong kidou. The woman was an expert healer, and as such, she also knew how to strike with the deadliest force when it came to kidou. That was likely one of the reasons that Yamamoto had brought her here.

The other would have to be any extra damage.

"Yamamoto-soutaichou..." he said in a low voice.

"I'll have to explain later – we don't have time, if we want to preserve Hitsugaya's mind," Yamamoto replied in an equally low voice. "We just need to stun him."

So Unohana _was _working on a binding kidou; they were the distracting force. If they could keep Karura at bay long enough for Unohana to bind him tightly, then there would be a good chance that they could not only preserve Hitsugaya's mind, but his life as well. Nodding in a show of silent understanding, Ukitake leaped into the fray before Shunsui accidentally killed the boy. Although Shunsui wasn't stupid, Ukitake knew he wasn't one to tolerate having someone attack his friends.

Ukitake only could hope that they would be enough.

* * *

_1877_

There were no pretenses this time.

Hitsugaya knew he was living the life that Kazuki could have lived, but had never had – thank the _gods._ And yet there was such an eerie familiarity to everything that happened that it struck his core in an excruciatingly cruel manner. It was as if whoever that other voice was, it was telling him that no matter how he'd lived his life, that no matter what had happened while he was alive, none of it would have stopped everything from going downhill.

Masahiro hadn't gone to war with Saigo, but he'd certainly gone to war at home.

Kazuki – no, _he _was cowering like a goddamned child in the corner as he heard his mother's soft cries on the other side of the shoji. Granted, he technically still was a child at this point in his previous life. But it didn't make him feel any better about the fact that he barely had control over his own motions. It was like he was watching a horror film from the star's eyes.

It wasn't his father.

Murae Masahiro was never a drunkard, nor was he a violent man. But in this version of Kazuki's life, he was both. And there were nightmarish, crow-like creatures around every corner, watching Kazuki with sparkling eyes and taunting calls, even as he sat in the corner with his head cushioned between his hands, whimpering like a whipped dog.

Kazuki – _damn it. Damn it all!_

With a sudden burst of rage, Hitsugaya _forced_ the boy's limbs to move, to stand, to fight. This wasn't how it was supposed to be!

"_Toushirou–"_

At least this time, he knew exactly where the voice was coming from. It wasn't Ryujin, his patron kami, but perhaps Hyourinmaru had been of that sort of lineage once in his lifetime. Maybe that was why Hyourinmaru was his zanpakutou in the after life; the kami still fulfilled its ancient promise to protect the sea – Hitsugaya's life force, the essence of his reiatsu. Water.

Thinking of reiatsu brought back to mind another issue with this story he was witnessing. Hitsugaya forced Kazuki's body out the door, limbs becoming easier to move with each step as if he'd finally worked the stiffness out of sore muscles and had warmed them to their full potential. Battle-ready. As soon as he was outside, he broke into a run, not stopping – despite the sudden jerk towards the sakura grove at the fork in the path, a sign that Kazuki was still a part of him – until he caught sight of the first of the _torii_ of Ryujin's shrine.

"Ichimaru!" he roared. "_What the hell do you want with me_?"

"_Toushirou–"_

And suddenly, he understood. He knew even if it hadn't been spoken: he was one with Hyourinmaru. The dragon wanted to be free, free to lead him out of this hell and back into the dark, back to fight whatever it was that was attacking his mind. So much like the last time, and yet it wasn't at all. This time, he was on very familiar terf. His battlegrounds, his rules. He'd been here before.

"Not s' fast, little taichou," a familiarly easy-going (_deceptive_) voice said from behind him. "Now ya wouldn't want t' ruin all the fun, would ya?"

"What the _fuck _did you do to me, you bastard?" Hitsugaya hissed.

"Now, now, no need t' get nasty," Gin said with mock-offense. "I'm jus' here 'cause I'm observin'. Yer itchin' t' fight the wrong enemy, kiddo."

"No, I think I'm looking at the right one." Hitsugaya felt Hyourinmaru's presence stronger here at the doors to Ryujin's shrine, as if the patron kami was lending them both its strength, and it was giving him courage.

"Well, I like watchin' a fair fight. I don't want t' distract ya too bad," Gin replied, nonchalantly examining his nails as he spoke, the smile never leaving his face.

"The _hell _is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I left ya a little present. Long while back, actually, but looks like 'e's woken back up. He ain't the type to enjoy bein' woken from a nice, long nap. Ya know how that goes."

That other voice – was that what Gin was referring to?

"Well, it's been nice catchin' up an' all, but I'm done here. Later, little taichou." And before Hitsugaya could protest, Gin was suddenly gone.

Hitsugaya frowned, confused. What the hell had that been about? Gin wasn't usually one to simply run from a fight, but he had mentioned that he was only there to observe. Hitsugaya had a bad feeling that there was someone else here that he should be more aware of – it was disconcerting, violating like the parasite-Hollow had been. That seemed like a lifetime ago now.

The sky began to darken with angry, storm-heavy clouds. Something was coming, and no matter what Gin had tried to say to – likely – throw him off guard, he wasn't going to go anywhere without a fight.

"_This isn't the right place, Toushirou. You can't fight it here."_

The dragon was absolutely right; this – wherever this was – was unnatural, a constructed trap to snare him in. And he'd nearly sprung it in his own rage.

"Lead me out of here, then. _Souten ni zase_, Hyourinmaru!"

With a pleased roar, a fully embodied Hyourinmaru flew from the shrine's direction and through the _torii_ leading to it, shattering the world around the shrine with its mighty claws. But as Hyourinmaru plucked Hitsugaya from the ground and headed to the void beyond the _torii _ at the shrine, half a dozen of the crow-beasts Hitsugaya had seen from before poured from the forest around them, claws thrashing at him, breaking his skin with bursts of pain. From their beaks came a screeching of horrible words in a language he couldn't understand. Gasping from the pain of the sudden onslaught, he gripped Hyourinmaru's scales tighter as they went back to the dark void. Hitsugaya chanced a look over his shoulder, and felt a small swelling of victory as he saw the mirror behind him shatter into thousands of shards before it faded entirely.

Hyourinmaru knew where to go, and before Hitsugaya could even think about how long they'd been traveling in the suffocating dark, they suddenly were in a very familiar place – the tunnel off to the side of the cave. The place where he kept the most precious last piece of himself, found in his memories. It almost felt like home, and Hitsugaya drew a shaking sigh of relief. At least, until he looked up. Dark, feathered arms and tendrils created a bizarre networked web of creature-limbs above his head. Gods, no wonder his memories had been so distorted – he'd been like a marionette, with the real puppet-master pulling the strings on his memories. How had he missed that from before? Had he really been this blind for this long?

Whatever "present" that Gin had left him with, it was going to _die_.

The network of feather-arms looked like its source was in the main cavern. Son of a bitch, setting up house in his own mind. Hyourinmaru growled lowly as they approached; the dragon's senses had likely picked up the scent of whatever it was. However, the dragon's growling became a full-bodied roar by the time Hitsugaya laid eyes on the present. Looking down at the dragon with question in his eyes – he'd never seen Hyourinmaru like this before, all nerves and rage – he wondered what the dragon knew that he didn't.

Well. He had certainly expected a fight, but what he hadn't expected was to see their enemy – half bird, half man, all _wrong_ – shrieking and writhing on the ground of the cave.

"Hyourinmaru, what–"

"_Karura the dragon-eater,"_ Hyourinmaru hissed.

The bird-man stopped writhing and looked up, and even while it continued to quiver with pain, it still managed to pull off a half-decent wicked grin.

"The dragon's finally come to play," it said in a hissed voice.

Without further fanfare, all Hitsugaya suddenly saw was the murderous crimson of its irises as it flew directly at them.

This time, Hitsugaya didn't hesitate. "_Bankai!_"

* * *

Ukitake winced as he saw Shunsui dodge another charge from "Hitsugaya" – rather, Karura, still firmly and stubbornly entrenched in the boy's body. Shunsui had taken a bad hit to his head earlier, and Ukitake wouldn't be surprised if he had a minor concussion. The man still continued to fight as though it was nothing, periodically wiping blood from his face with a grimace. It had to hurt. 

He wasn't faring much better, to tell the truth. Though he had managed to dodge everything thrown at him thus far, his lungs were slowly seizing to the point that he knew he was wheezing. He couldn't keep up this pace much longer.

Yamamoto didn't even look like he was breaking a sweat. Yama-jii, old man mountain standing steady. But Ukitake could tell that on occasion, even Yama-jii had to stop himself from delivering a final blow on several occasions. It was taxing all of them, and Ukitake hoped that Unohana would be ready soon.

As if she'd read his mind, she suddenly shouted out the last of the chant for the kidou she'd been planning. When Ukitake heard her words, he understood why it had taken so long – it was a ridiculously complex kidou that not even most of the captains knew. He'd never had to use it before, and it was strange to see the unfamiliar bright white light envelop Hitsugaya's small frame and suddenly freeze him – and Karura – into place.

Karura's shrill, angry shouts echoed off the walls of Yamamoto's office.

"Kurotsuchi, do it now!" Yamamoto ordered.

Kurotsuchi didn't have to be told twice. He was suddenly in front of Hitsugaya with a hose that came from a tall water container that held the same clear liquid that they'd been using earlier. With a quick flip of his wrist, the substance sprayed from the end of the hose and drenched Hitsugaya in a matter of seconds.

"I'm going to kill him!" Karura shrieked. "I'm going to fucking _kill _him, so help me–!"

"Don't stop," Yamamoto snapped.

Ukitake hobbled over to Shunsui and helped him into a chair before they both turned wide-eyed gazes on the sight before them. Hitsugaya's body was still, eyes closed, but it looked like he was separating into two beings – a man-like body covered in dark feathers began to emerge from Hitsugaya's chest. Karura's torso was exposed down to the waist, and its glowing red eyes were wide with surprised fury.

"I swear – I will _kill this child!_ I will not go down alone!" Karura warned, voice shrill.

Kurotsuchi continued to spray the liquid, a small smile finding its way across his face. He was morbidly amused by all this, Ukitake realized. This was something he'd like to harness and study, this Karura. Ukitake suppressed a shudder; he hoped Karura never saw the light of day again.

Karura had no intentions of going down without a fight, and even with Unohana's strong hold, it still struggled furiously, trying to get free, squawking. It looked like it was just barely hanging on by its claws. Unohana's brow was furrowed with concentration, and Ukitake saw that it was taking a lot of her just to maintain the hold. With a short glance at Shunsui, the two silently made an agreement, and then added their power to Unohana's.

Trying to harness the thrashing body in demon arts was like trying to reign in a wild horse, but they saw that the steady stream of the liquid from Kurotsuchi's hose was doing its work. Such progress lent Ukitake strength; he could only hope that they would do a fast and careful enough job to avoid permanent damage to Hitsugaya's body or mind. Karura was exposed to the ankles now, its legs shaking as it strained to hang on to Hitsugaya. Its hold was failing, and it knew it.

"Say goodbye to the brat!" Karura suddenly snarled, ripping its clawed feet free from Hitsugaya's chest with a vicious jerk.

"_Hadou kyuu-jyuu, __Kurohitsugi!_" Yamamoto barked, holding his hands out in front of him. The blast that came from his hands was powerful enough to destroy the entire building; the black ball of reiatsu struck Karura squarely in the chest, and the bird-man demon's dying shrieks were sure to have deafened the entire first division. It certainly left Ukitake's ears ringing.

And then Karura was gone.

Ukitake felt Shunsui's and Unohana's holds release, and he left his there long enough to help Hitsugaya drift gently back down to the chair below, the same chair that they'd strapped him in hours – _days? – _ago. The strain made his lungs twitch in warning, but he had just enough strength left in him to at least afford Hitsugaya a softer landing.

Unohana hurried – she never ran – towards Hitsugaya the moment he was sitting in the chair, and Ukitake and Shunsui followed closely behind. Ukitake felt Yamamoto's presence close behind him as they all crowded around Hitsugaya.

When the young captain's eyes fluttered open, he frowned as he looked muzzily up at the faces surrounding him. Ukitake couldn't hold back the gasp of relief when he saw that they were back to the familiar turquoise color. Blinking several times, Hitsugaya looked rather relieved himself, if not rather worn down.

"Gods," he murmured, voice hoarse from Karura's screaming. "I _never _want to do that again."

Ukitake's chuckle died in his throat when Hitsugaya suddenly coughed and gagged, a deep crimson liquid spilling out of his mouth and over his lower lip, his eyes rolling back to show only the whites. Ukitake could have sworn his heart stopped. _Blood. _Unohana called Hitsugaya's name desperately just before he limply collapsed out of the chair and into Unohana's arms, unconscious.

* * *

_**to be continued in part IX**_

* * *

_I hereby apologize for any mistakes I might have made (or did make - there are a lot of canonical plot holes that I keep noticing, and it's almost to the point of driving me insane, so... yeah, I know those are there). -headdesk- _


	9. Part IX

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding the rights to its license and distribution (including Shueisha Jump Comics, Studio Pierrot, TV Tokyo, Viz, etc.). Used for a non-profit entertainment purpose._

_**Warnings:**__ same as usual, though a good deal more f-bombing this time around, ehehehe…_

_**Shout-outs:**_

_Kellen and Davan for their support and letting me flail at them as I worked on this chapter. ILU GUYZ. SRSLY._

_Namimakura for the fanart of the end of Part VIII! OMG. I __**never**__ get fic-related fanart (except from Thane, but that is because we're doing a webcomic together and she spoils me)! -flails some more- Link to said fanart is in my bio. Go tell her how awesome she is. 8D_

_Other notes at the end of the chapter. Long chapter ahoy!_

* * *

_**Part IX**_

Hinamori Momo had decided that she needed a break from the back fifth division paperwork she'd been picking through. The seated officers in her division had done a fabulous job of keeping up with the current reports in both their captain's and vice captain's sudden absences, but even they could only handle so much at one time. She couldn't presume to expect as much out of them, not when it should have been hers to do in the first place. There were times when she understood where Matsumoto's tendency to sneak off when reports were due came from.

The transition to taking over for Aizen-taichou had been difficult – and it still was, in most ways. There were many days in which Hinamori nearly forgot that her captain wasn't there anymore, and wouldn't be. She would turn to ask him his opinion on a particular report, or to see if he would like any tea when she went to get herself some, and he wasn't there. Of course he wasn't there; someone – Gin – had messed up his mind in there somewhere. It didn't matter, though; Hitsugaya would bring him back and remind him of who he really was. Shirou-chan had promised as much.

Hinamori looked up just in time to see the sign for the Tenth's offices as she passed on her walk; she hadn't even realized she was heading in that direction. Part of her wanted to stop in and say hi to Hitsugaya, but then she remembered that he was still on mission in the Living World. Maybe she could beg Yamamoto-soutaichou to let her call him again soon.

Until then, she would simply loop by the First's offices and see how things were going there before she went back to work on paperwork. One could only delay the inevitable for so long. But before she could let her mind dwell further on the upcoming reports, a small commotion of voices down the hall attracted her attention. There was a small clump of shinigami – white coats, captains, Ukitake and Kyouraku and Kurotsuchi and Unohana and… _Yamamoto-soutaichou?_ – moving quickly towards the Fourth Division's quarters. Unohana's face glowed the color of reiatsu, her forehead wrinkled in a worried, concentrated frown. They hadn't seemed to notice Hinamori following them.

She caught Hitsugaya's name, and her heart skipped a beat. Moving forward with a hand outstretched, she tried to see who it was they were so intently gathered around. Something bad had happened. But suddenly, Koutetsu-fukutaichou was blocking her view of the procession, and she couldn't see any more.

That wasn't Hitsugaya-taichou they were carrying, was it?

A choked, pained moan in Hitsugaya's familiar voice told her otherwise, and she froze. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. Hitsugaya was supposed to be in the Living World – what was he doing here? Why was he hurt? Had something happened to him on his mission?

She followed them to the Fourth Division's infirmary, trying to pick up as much of the conversation as she could, but the ringing in her ears kept the words from registering. All she knew was that Hitsugaya had been badly hurt, and that Gin had likely had something to do with it, somehow.

_Gin._ The name turned her vision red with anger at the man who had taken so much away from her. It was Gin's fault that Aizen had betrayed them, and if Gin had been responsible for harming Hitsugaya… She wouldn't forgive him.

"Hinamori-fukutaichou?"

Hinamori nearly jumped; she had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't even heard Koutetsu Kiyone – one of the two shinigami who shared the third seat in Ukitake's division – come up behind her.

"Koutetsu-san! You startled me," Hinamori said.

"I know you're worried about Hitsugaya-taichou, but Isane-nee-sama asked me to escort you back to your division," Kiyone said in a sheepishly gentle tone. "She said they will contact you as soon as there is news, if you'd like, but they can't have unauthorized personnel in this area right now. I'm sorry."

Worry chased the anger away; Hitsugaya must be in really bad shape if they were trying to keep the area clear. "What happened?"

"I don't know for sure myself, but I heard something went wrong during a questioning session," Kiyone said. "It's probably too early to say, but I think Hitsugaya-taichou was somehow hurt during the process."

"Will he be all right?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry."

Hinamori nodded; Kiyone's guess probably was as good as her own. She let the third seat lead her away, silently praying that Hitsugaya would pull through whatever had happened to him.

* * *

"Ran-chan! You have a call!"

Renji was out of breath by the time he caught up to Matsumoto at the edge of the park. She had taken up Hitsugaya's affinity for late afternoon walks in his absence; she was out on one such walk when she sensed Renji approaching her. She whirled, eyes wide when they met with Renji's.

"News?" she asked seriously, heart pounding with anxiety. Was it from Hitsugaya?

"None that they would give me; Yamamoto-soutaichou wanted to speak with you specifically," Renji replied, an apologetic look on his face.

She frowned. If Yamamoto wanted to speak with her, then… No. She couldn't let her mind think that way. They wouldn't execute Hitsugaya over his memories, would they? They couldn't afford to, not with how thinly spread their captains were as it was. Without another word, she nodded to Renji, and they both sped back to Orihime's apartment, back to where the Soul Society calling console sat in the spare room there. Orihime shot them a puzzled look as they both barged into her apartment and rushed back to the spare room.

Matsumoto didn't realize she was out of breath until she stood before the console gasping for air. Yamamoto's figure stood calmly still in the incoming screen, silhouetted in his dark office only by the light of his own console. His face was blank, but it always was.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou," he said solemnly. "Your presence is requested back here in Soul Society. Please report to my office after you have made arrangements to oversee Inoue-san's continued protection."

_No news?_ Matsumoto nearly frowned again at the vague nature of Yama-jii's message, but she knew better than to question. They'd tell her what was going on when she got there, she hoped. "Understood, Yamamoto-soutaichou," she replied with a nod.

"That is all."

And the screen flickered off. Matsumoto looked wearily over her shoulder at Renji, who still stood in the doorway.

"You'd better get going, Ran-chan," he said.

Matsumoto nodded. "Please take over for me, and let the others know," she said.

Renji balked. "Me? But--"

"And make sure Urahara keeps his promise. I'll send word as soon as I'm able."

"Wouldn't-- I mean--... But--" Once Renji finished sputtering, he took a deep breath and bowed. "Take care, Ran-chan."

Matsumoto nodded, turned, and initiated the gate back to Soul Society. Renji waved behind the closing doors, and Matsumoto didn't look back. Then again, she was startled to find Ukitake waiting for her on the other side of the door, and she didn't even think to look behind her again. At first, she thought that perhaps it was a coincidence, but when she took a closer look at the Thirteenth's captain, she saw that he was slightly hunched over, and dark circles ringed his bloodshot eyes. There was no sparkle in his usually cheery expression.

The realization sank in Matsumoto's gut, bitterly heavy. Something had not only gone wrong, it had gone _horribly_ wrong. A disaster.

"Come with me," was all the answer Ukitake could provide her. He turned and walked somberly in the direction of the First Division offices. Numbly, Matsumoto followed.

Yamamoto's office looked like a war zone, and Matsumoto suddenly understood why Yamamoto had likely kept the lights off on purpose while speaking with her over the communicator. Glass and papers were strewn everywhere, chairs broken and at least one table had been splintered. There were patches of blood on the floor, not quite dried, and the most pooled around the base of a chair that had once had armrests on it. The only explanation she could think of was that there had been a fight there. Had Hitsugaya fought back during the memory wipe? Had he been provoked so far as to strike back against Yamamoto? Or had someone attacked them in the meantime? It was extremely difficult to tell from just a glance what had caused the scuffle, but something had happened.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou," Yamamoto greeted.

"Yamamoto-soutaichou," Matsumoto replied, bowing. "You sent for me."

"I did," Yamamoto said. "Thank you for your prompt arrival." Matusmoto inclined her head in a half-nod, and waited for the old man to continue. "As you can see, there has been some trouble here, and I am afraid it involves Hitsugaya-taichou."

Matsumoto couldn't hide the scowl that was slowly finding its way to her face. "And how might that be?" she asked tersely. She half expected Yamamoto to come out and accuse her of treason as well, just by association.

His answer surprised her. "He was the unfortunate casualty of a brutal trap set by Aizen Sousuke and his associates."

_Was._ The word felt like a slowly-twisting knife in her stomach. Hitsugaya wasn't... "Is Hitsugaya-taichou–?"

"He still lives," Yamamoto said, quelling one of her fears. "But he is in poor condition. Unohana-taichou is looking after him as we speak."

If Unohana-taichou was personally handling his case, then it had to be bad. "Might I see him?"

"Not until Unohana-taichou declares him stable."

Matsumoto felt her eyes burn with tears, and she spent a full moment trying to bite back on them. She had to be strong. When she was certain her voice wasn't going to crack on her, she asked, "What happened?"

"Well, we can't do much until we have word from Unohana. Let us go somewhere where we can sit, and I will explain the situation in full detail," Yamamoto said, motioning for both Matsumoto and Ukitake to follow.

Feeling ill, Matsumoto hesitated, but Ukitake gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up as he passed, and then she finally followed.

* * *

"Unohana-taichou, there's still a rupture in his lungs; he's stopped breathing again!"

"S-Stage three treatment is in progress, Unohana-taichou."

"Isane, please switch with me; I will work on the respiratory system."

"Yes, taichou."

"Yuuji, stay on task until we reach stage five of the treatment, and then switch with Hanatarou-san until we stabilize him. Stay focused now; we can't afford to lose our concentration here!"

"Yes, taichou!"

Unohana took a deep breath as she focused her reiatsu into Hitsugaya's small chest, encouraging the torn tissues of his lungs to mend. The breathing mask could only help him so far as his lungs were working. Sweat beaded on her upper lip as she worked, and she didn't realize she was gritting her teeth until her jaw relaxed when Hitsugaya raggedly gasped a lungful of air. After his second breath, she took a deep breath. They should be ready to move into the next stage of healing soon.

"He's breathing again," she informed her small, five-man tag team unit. "Preparing for stage four of his treatment."

"Give me a moment," Isane said, gritting her teeth.

"Koutetsu-fukutaichou, don't push too hard–!"

"Give me a moment!" she repeated, voice raising. "Working around some resistance; give me a hand, Hanatarou!"

Hanatarou knelt beside Isane and placed his hands alongside the vice-captain's as they pressed against Hitsugaya's abdomen. Unohana was grateful for the smaller healer's presence; after his foray with Kurosaki and the other ryoka, Hanatarou's talent seemed to blossom with the encouragement, and his gentle touch was proving to be extremely helpful. After a moment, Isane nodded gratefully to Hanatarou.

"Ready for the fourth stage of treatment," she said, exhaling.

"Hanatarou, switch with Isane until the next stage of treatment," Unohana ordered. "Isane, you will relieve Yuuji when the time comes."

"I'm sorry, Unohana-taichou," Isane said, bowing her head as she moved from her position.

Isane was stressing herself too far and could use the short breather. Not that Unohana blamed Isane; Hitsugaya's case was proving to be rather distressing. Karura nearly had carried out his threat to take Hitsugaya down with him – in fact, the threat still hung heavy in the air. Hitsugaya was in dire shape; he had suffered a great deal of internal damage, as if Karura had actually dragged his claws through Hitsugaya's insides. The outward signs of the injury were gruesome as it was, but it was a situation where it really was worse than it looked. Three jagged, parallel claw marks cut diagonally across Hitsugaya's torso from his hip to his shoulder; the blood loss only added complications to the more serious injuries on the inside. It was a miracle that the young captain was even alive at this point, and Unohana intended for him to stay that way. As slow as it was, they were making progress.

"H-He's waking up!"

The strangled scream brought her attention back to her work, and Hitsugaya's back arched painfully as his muscles tensed. The cold compress that lay over the young man's eyes fell to the side, revealing wide, panicked eyes that saw nothing but pain. She hadn't been expecting him to rouse after the first spell, but apparently it hadn't been strong enough, she realized with a small measure of guilt. The earlier stages of treatment were always the most painful for the more serious cases. Unohana reached with one hand and spread her fingers across Hitsugaya's forehead, and with a quick burst of reiatsu, she watched as his body relaxed again, eyes rolling to the back of his head once more before the eyelids closed.

"Sleep, Hitsugaya-taichou," she murmured, placing the cloth back over his eyes.

"Stage four of treatment is in progress."

Unohana nodded in acknowledgement, focusing her attention back on the patient. She hoped he wouldn't remember this procedure as anything more than a distant nightmare.

* * *

The wind blew bitterly cold outside the cave, seeping through the small opening and chilling the shivering, huddled inhabitant to the bone. Not even the familiar warmth of the dragon behind him helped, and moment by silent moment, he felt himself weakening, as if someone had turned the tap on his strength to full blast. Blinking frost-laden lashes, Hitsugaya sluggishly cast his gaze on the dragon behind him, the dragon's breath shuddering harshly in his ears.

He opened his mouth to try to offer empty encouragement to the dragon – and himself – but sharp pain shot through his chest, and he lost the breath to speak. They'd both been badly wounded this time.

Hitsugaya cast a baleful look at the hallway that had encased his memories; its entranceway was now ensconced in thick ice. He didn't need to see beyond the blockade to know what was there – all that was left were the shattered remnants of what had once been a source of identity. Now? Now he didn't even know what was his, and what had been planted there by Gin.

Hell, he didn't even know if _Gin_ was real at this point, nor did he have the energy to care.

"There won't… there won't be any waking up this time, will there?" Hitsugaya asked wryly, once he had the air to say so.

_"Toushirou,"_ the dragon's voice rumbled. _"It doesn't have to be that way."_

"I don't have the strength left to fix it, dragon," Hitsugaya sighed. "There's nothing left there, anyway. Karura made damn sure of that."

Hyourinmaru growled in admonishment. _"I know how it should be."_

"Then you fix it," Hitsugaya said bitterly. "I'm not going back there."

_"Toushirou, that isn't like you, and you know it."_

Hitsugaya turned his head sharply to face the dragon, and instantly regretted it as pain shot through his spine. "Damn it, I don't even know what I'm like anymore – how do you expect me to piece together a puzzle when half the pieces are fake?"

_"Rely on me, then, to tell you which pieces to use."_

Hitsugaya sighed; Hyourinmaru wasn't one to lie, was he? "There's no point, anyway. Gaining my memory won't keep me alive."

_"But your resolve will, Toushirou."_

Hitsugaya didn't have much to say to that, except… who would care if he lived? He was a criminal now anyway, at any rate. Even if it wasn't his fault, he had broken the code – he remembered. Or, at least, he thought he did.

Maybe he didn't.

_Gods, not this train of thought again._

_"That wasn't you, Toushirou."_

Gritting his teeth, Hitsugaya had to clamp down on the urge to argue with Hyourinmaru, but he knew that it was stupid to even try. The dragon was right; Karura – the son of a bitch – had been in control for far too long. Hitsugaya sure as hell wasn't going to let Karura have the last laugh in his own body.

What was it with the villains trying to hijack his mind these days, anyway?

_"They see potential."_

"And that means–?"

Hyourinmaru stayed silent. For all Hitsugaya cared, the dragon could have shrugged, or could have said "I know something you don't, and you'll just have to find out the long way," for all the good the silence did.

"Let me guess – if I have the strength to argue, then I have the strength to get out of here, right?" Hitsugaya said dryly.

Hyourinmaru's long whiskers pulled back to reveal long, pointed white teeth; it was as much of a smile as Hitsugaya could hope for from the dragon. The damn thing wasn't only smart, but had a sense of humor, too. Hitsugaya supposed he could have been stuck with a worse partner.

Standing slowly – it hurt like _hell _to move – Hitsugaya panted until the pain faded to a manageable level before he began staggering towards the ice that surrounded the hallway. Without a word, Hyourinmaru followed.

* * *

Renji wasn't sure how they'd known they were short several members of their team, but somehow, they must have. They _must _have. The timing was far too perfect. He'd been meditating when he saw the dark rip cut a gaping black hole in the sky, and even before he saw who was behind it, he was already standing with his gigai at his feet, one word coming to mind.

"_Fuck._"

He wasted no time rushing his way back to Inoue's place, startling her as he barged in the door. To be honest, he was extremely relieved that he hadn't had to hunt for her; lately, she'd been taking up training with Rukia in order to try to protect herself. But if Rukia couldn't handle an Espada, then it was a safe bet that neither could Inoue. Though it hadn't yet been confirmed that the intruders were Espada rather than average Arrancar, it was better to be safe than sorry, in this case. They might not be trying to kill her yet, but they certainly were interested in her. Renji hadn't heard any good explanation as to why that might be the case – Inoue was a human girl with some unusual but extremely efficient healing abilities, but Renji doubted that Aizen wanted her for that skill. Perhaps there was something about Inoue that the rest of them had missed that made her especially valuable.

"We have a problem, Inoue-san, and I'm going to have to ask you to come with me to Urahara's," Renji said seriously, feeling a little guilty for startling the poor girl.

Inoue didn't seem to mind. She nodded, eyes equally serious, and grasped Renji's outstretched hand. He hoped that the others would know where to meet up – in Matsumoto's and Hitsugaya's absences, Renji had formulated what he hoped would be a plan of action should such a situation arise. Inoue would be placed under Urahara's protection, and then they would all meet at the place where the rip appeared.

Urahara was waiting for them when they arrived at his shop, a terse grin on his face. "Inoue-san," he greeted, and offered a nod to Renji as well.

"I leave her to you again, Urahara-san," Renji said, and then he left.

His next line of business would be to inform Soul Society that they were engaging the Arrancar, and to have them send back-up. Summoning a hell butterfly as he ran, he whispered the message to it and sent it on its way back to headquarters. Chances were that they'd already noticed the invasion, but Renji hoped that such news would entice them to send a second unit to help fend them off this time, especially since they were rather sure their target was Inoue. Urahara had inferred as much after the most recent Arrancar attacks that he'd known something about it, and knew that they had been after Inoue. If the enemy wanted her so badly, then they weren't going to let them have her, even if she was merely a human girl and not an actual shinigami.

It did make Renji wonder why it was that they wanted her so badly. One of these days, he would have to corner Urahara – somehow – and make him explain. Until then, he had Arrancar to kill.

Ichigo's reiatsu exploded in Renji's senses, and after the initial shockwave had died down, he was able to pinpoint the location of the fight. He was relieved to know that Ichigo was in action; the boy was indeed a powerful ally to have in a situation like this, despite his inexperience. Renji knew that Rukia would be with him, and Renji hoped that their combined reiatsu would attract enough attention that they would distract the Arrancar away from their actual goal. Highly doubtful – it didn't exactly work that way the last time, since the Arrancar seemed to be pretty damn smart – but thankfully Urahara had foreseen as much and had managed to protect Inoue, as he would this time. Urahara was also a powerful ally to be grateful for, in Renji's book.

When Renji finally picked out how many Arrancar had arrived this time, he put on speed; Ichigo and Rukia wouldn't be able to handle them all alone. Renji fervently hoped that Yumichika and Ikkaku realized what had happened and would be on their way to help as well.

They were going to need all the help they could get, if these Arrancar were anything like what they had encountered before.

* * *

Matsumoto still felt vaguely sick when Unohana quietly led her to Hitsugaya's room in the infirmary. Even though she now knew Yamamoto was trying to save Hitsugaya rather than kill him, she still felt at least a little angry at the old man. Why had he questioned Hitsugaya so harshly anyway, even though he knew exactly what was going on? Why hadn't he protected his subordinates better? Why had he allowed this kind of treachery to happen? There were so many things she wanted to ask him – accuse him of – that it made her head hurt with confusion. She hoped fervently that Hitsugaya would at least be told the truth if-- _when_ he awoke. All such thoughts fled, however, once Unohana sat her down by Hitsugaya. The young captain was horribly pale, and the fact that the covers were pulled to his chin even in such warm weather had her wondering what they were hiding beneath.

"I've put him in a deep sleep," Unohana explained quietly. "It'll help ease the pain until he's healed enough to bear it."

Matsumoto grasped the closest of Hitsugaya's hands between both of her own; shivering at how cold it was to the touch. Pressing it to her forehead, she tried hard not to cry as she recalled the last time Hitsugaya had spent a great deal of time in Unohana's care. Only this time, she hadn't been there to support him.

"Will… will he be okay?" she finally asked.

Unohana placed a gentle hand on Matsumoto's shoulder. "That will be up to him. It'll be easier to tell when he is awake," the healer replied honestly. "Until then, you're welcome to stay with him. Try talking to him; he may be asleep, but I think it helps to know that there are those here who care."

Matsumoto nodded, not looking up. She heard the rustle of cloth as Unohana quietly excused herself and left Matsumoto alone with her captain. For several moments, all Matsumoto could manage was to silently sit by Hitsugaya's side, clinging on to his cold hand. After all he'd been through – all of them, really – she couldn't bear the thought of losing him to a plot that was even older than he was.

Why had she not seen Gin's betrayal sooner? She should have noticed_something_, especially back when they were so close. She remembered when Gin became Aizen's lieutenant, but she hadn't seen a change then. Perhaps he had been fooling her all along as well, dragging her into his brutal mind games. It made her regret not taking Gin's life when she had it in her hands, the day he betrayed them all. If she had, then Hitsugaya wouldn't be laying here half-dead, and she wouldn't feel that gaping, empty hole left in her chest. Even though Hitsugaya was her captain, she was still older than he was, and she felt at least partially responsible for not looking out better for him.

It made her want to scream.

"Taichou, I'm so sorry," she whispered instead. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. Please… please hang in there; I don't know what we–… _I_ would do if I lost you, too."

She squeezed his hand, and the moved one hand to brush his bangs from his face as he slept. Remembering Unohana's words, she continued to whisper encouragements to Hitsugaya to hold on, and when she ran out of words to say, she sighed, and instead began filling him in on what he'd missed in the Living World.

* * *

There were only three this time.

_Only_, of course, being a comparative term. The last time, there had been _only_ five, and it had taken nearly all the Shinigami currently taking temporary residence in the Living World to keep them at bay. At least now they knew exactly what the Arrancar were after – apparently, something about Inoue had caught Aizen's eye.

Ichigo wasn't about to let them have her. They'd nearly lost her to Hueco Mundo in the last major Arrancar attack; if Urahara hadn't seen through their ruse and insisted Inoue stay in Soul Society until he could safely escort her back to the Living World, she probably would have been in their hands by now. This time, however, Inoue wasn't in the relative safety of Seireitei's gates, and they were one captain and his lieutenant fewer than the last time they'd fought the Arrancar.

Ichigo hoped that Renji had stuck to his own damn plan and had taken her to Urahara as soon as he'd sensed the Arrancar's arrival (who the hell _couldn't _sense the damn things?). He had almost insisted that Rukia stay behind as well – images of what Grimmjow had done to her the last time still haunted him at night – but he knew it would be a futile effort, so he didn't even bother trying this time around. She was running next to him, both of them heading in the direction of Ichigo's father's clinic, where it seemed there was the strongest concentration of foul reiatsu.

Yumichika met him with serious eyes and a curt nod not too far from the Kurosaki clinic; Ikkaku was likely close behind. That was good – at least three against three, possibly four in their favor. If all had gone according to plan, Renji would be on his way as well.

_There. _Ichigo could _see _the outlines of reiatsu now, just a matter of blocks down the road. He turned and checked to see if Rukia was behind him – he knew she was there; he could sense her there, but he needed the visual confirmation – and she nodded back at him, but her gaze suddenly shot past him and widened. She barely had time to shout a warning as Ichigo turned and nearly collided with a rather tall, lanky Arrancar, built much like Grimmjow but with more wire and less brute strength. The Arrancar grunted as Ichigo brushed past him, and then turned and skid to a halt with his hand on the hilt of Zangetsu. He paused, feeling as though the Arrancar was going to say something – a scathing remark on the fact that Ichigo had nearly run into him, or perhaps a demeaning slur about Ichigo's skills and a comparison to Grimmjow.

_Grimmjow isn't here, _Ichigo noticed suddenly, and the realization left him both relieved and oddly frustrated.

Instead of a rude greeting like Grimmjow would have issued, this Arrancar said not a word and didn't give him the luxury. No rank announcement, either - this guy might not even be an Espada. With a sharp scrape of metal against wood, Ichigo's opponent drew his zanpakutou and charged. Ichigo quickly pulled Zangetsu's larger blade up to knock the Arrancar's thrust away from his body, and then he propelled himself backwards and skid on the air currents, holding his sword pointed out in front of him as he faced the Arrancar. He drew in a deep breath.

"Ban– _shit_!" Another Arrancar cut off the release of Ichigo's bankai with several bala, forcing Ichigo off his stance in order to deflect the energy bullets.

Clearly, these guys weren't up for sitting around and gauging their opponent, Ichigo realized morosely. Unless he got a good chance, he wasn't going to be able to even _think_ about releasing his bankai, and if these Arrancar were anything like Grimmjow or the other ones they had encountered before, he was going to be in deep trouble.

Ichigo didn't even register Rukia's sharp call until he saw the first Arrancar freeze mid-attack just a few feet in front of him; she had released her shikai from behind the Arrancar. Her stern eyes met his for a moment, and he nodded. She had given him just enough time.

"Bankai!" Ichigo roared.

* * *

Matsumoto's voice floated softly through the traditional shoji that surrounded the rooms of the fourth division's infirmary rooms. Hinamori hadn't really noticed before, but the more she listened, the more she realized that the Tenth's lieutenant had a rather soothing cadence to the way she spoke. It almost made Hinamori jealous, but at the same time, she simply couldn't bring herself to interrupt it.

_"Renji snores when he's asleep. He doesn't like admitting it, but it's pretty loud. He's in charge there right now, just in case you were wondering who I left running the outpost." _There was a brief pause, and then, _"You know, I hope you wake up soon, because that probably wasn't the best idea I've ever had."_

Hinamori stifled a small giggle with her hand. Even though Matsumoto was clearly worried about her captain, she still had the mental fortitude to keep at least a mild sense of humor in such a tense situation. That too made Hinamori almost envious of the buxom woman, especially since she clearly had a close bond with Hinamori's childhood friend. Not that Hinamori wasn't willing to share, of course; it was more the fact that she felt as though her time in a coma had put her a little out of the loop on many things.

Hitsugaya had been hurt that time as well, she recalled. He had healed enough to go back on duty long before she had awakened, so she often forgot that he too had nearly died during that confusing time. Simply _thinking_ about it gave Hinamori a headache. There had to have been some kind of mistake; Aizen wasn't the type of person to_do _that to anyone.

She peered through the crack between the slightly-parted shoji into what had become Hitsugaya's room, and was almost surprised to see how lifeless Hitsugaya looked. His pale face took on a glassy sheen from sweat reflecting in the dim light, though his features looked almost too relaxed. Matsumoto sat beside Hitsugaya's pallet, clasping his closest hand with one of her own. One of the Fourth's seated officers sat on the other side, eyes closed in concentration, hands glowing as they hovered over Hitsugaya's chest. He had to have been badly hurt if they still were working on his wounds even after Unohana had done her work. Hinamori's heart sank; Kiyone had not exaggerated the situation at all, much to Hinamori's dismay. Aizen couldn't have done that to Shirou-chan – he _hadn't_ done it.

This was Gin's fault. Hadn't she heard them talking about Gin not too long before, when they'd first brought Hitsugaya to the Fourth's ward? Aizen simply wasn't that cruel. … Was he?

Hinamori chewed on her lower lip, frustrated at the small knot of doubt tightening in her stomach. Aizen had never failed her before – those weren't Aizen's eyes looking at her, when she had nearly been killed all those months ago. Those were the eyes of someone else entirely; someone cold and cruel. Gin's eyes – when they were actually visible – were just like that.

A low groan startled Hinamori out of her train of thought, and her eyes snapped back to Hitsugaya's still form. Matsumoto had placed her free hand on the young captain's forehead, whispering soothing words.

She couldn't watch anymore; watching only made her angry and frustrated, and Hitsugaya certainly didn't need that right now in his situation. He needed to pull through, and if he didn't, Hinamori was sure that not even the threat of eternal hell could stop her from storming to Hueco Mundo and extracting payment from Gin herself.

* * *

By the time Renji arrived at the scene of the fight, there wasn't much left. Strewn bodies of dying Arrancar lay in haphazard fashion, Ichigo at the clear center of the carnage. The orange-haired boy stood with his back straight, facing away from Renji.

Renji let out a low whistle. "Well, it looks like you didn't need my help this time, Kurosaki." Ichigo's face half-turned towards him. "What, no Grimmjow this time to– _holy shit_, what the–!"

He barely had time to bring up Zabimaru for protection before Ichigo nearly flew _into_ him, half his face covered in a white mask, revealing an unnaturally wide grin and dark black eyes with yellow irises. Ichigo's weight slammed heavily into Renji, buffered only by the clashing of swords between them; the soles of Renji's feet burned as they skimmed against the pavement.

"What the _fuck_, Kurosaki? It's _me_, you dumbass!" Renji roared, locking eyes with Ichigo.

The laugh coming from Ichigo's broad smile sounded warped – it wasn't his voice. Renji's mind raced as he looked around for an explanation. Clearly, Ichigo had been the one to demolish the three invading Arrancar with little trouble, but as his eyes scanned quickly over the battlefield, they fell on Rukia's prone body.

_Fuck._

Renji gritted his teeth and snarled, "You goddamned piece of_shit_–"

"Abarai, _stop_!" It was Yumichika's voice, and Renji saw him pulling himself gingerly to his feet across the now-broken intersection of road over Ichigo's shoulder. "Kurosaki didn't hurt Rukia!"

Oh. _Oh._ Ichigo had pulled out that crazy-assed mask of his, and Rukia had been hurt in the fight. Renji wasn't an idiot; he knew how the punk kid felt about Rukia, and knew that it could have been enough to see Rukia felled to put a chink in Ichigo's usually rock solid armor.

"How the hell do we change him back, then?" Renji shouted back, pushing against Zangetsu with all his strength.

"I – I don't know," Yumichika replied uneasily.

"You're both idiots," the distorted voice snickered from Ichigo's mouth. "_There will be no changing back_. I am Kurosaki Ichigo now."

"Like hell I'm going to believe that!" Renji shoved "Ichigo" away from him, and ran his hand over Zabimaru's jagged blade. "Howl, Zabimaru!"

A sudden flash of light overhead pulled Renji's attention away from his target just long enough for him to see a figure wearing a similar Hollow-like mask; it was heading straight for Ichigo.

"Renji, _move_!"

Renji wasn't sure if it was Rukia's voice that brought him out of his stupor, or if it was the sudden realization that he was about to get pounded into the pavement that did it – he performed several_shunpo_ to the side, dodging chunks of concrete as they crossed his path. On his way out of the intersection, he passed by Rukia and scooped her off the ground as gently as he could at the speed he was going. He was joined by Yumichika on the flat roof of a nearby building.

"Who the hell is that?" Renji demanded once he'd stopped moving.

"I don't know," Yumichika replied. "He kind of looks like that one weird new kid from school, but it's hard to tell with that mask on his face." He looked up, frowning. "Do you think that–"

"That guy was talking with Kurosaki earlier," Ikkaku said suddenly from behind them.

Yumichika whirled, glaring. "And where the hell were _you_ just now?

"None of your fuckin' business," Ikakku snapped. "But look – he's not trying to kill Kurosaki, just slowin' him down. I don't think he's an enemy, but he's certainly no normal kid."

"No shit," Renji replied.

Rukia cleared her throat from Renji's arms, squirming to get his attention. Renji almost forgot he'd been carrying her, and that she was–

_Shit!_

"You can put me down now, Renji," Rukia stated evenly, in that tone she only used when she was dangerously irritated.

Renji didn't care and glared at her. "Last I checked, you weren't in much mood for walking on your own."

"I'm fine," Rukia snapped back, pushing against Renji's broad chest. "Now put me _down_, or I swear on Sode no Shiroyuki that I will–"

"Fine, fine," Renji said, not wanting to squabble. He put her on her feet, holding her steady as she wobbled only slightly before she regained her balance. "Happy now?"

She said nothing, and instead turned to watch the fight. Ichigo – or that damned freak that apparently still lived in him – seemed to be having trouble against the strange blond boy's onslaught, and it wasn't long before Zangetsu was knocked away and "Ichigo" was slammed backwards into a building. Before "Ichigo" could move, the boy was there, a sword in hand, pointed at the impostor's throat.

"The _fuck_– that's a zanpakutou!" Ikkaku suddenly exclaimed.

Renji's eyes widened; there couldn't be more than one rogue shinigami around this town, could there? They all watched with startled expressions as the blond boy's hand shot out and grabbed "Ichigo"'s mask, giving it a sharp tug before it shattered into pieces, leaving Ichigo's wide brown eyes blinking back in utter confusion.

Rukia sighed loudly beside him in relief; Renji couldn't agree more, though he couldn't deny that he wanted to hear an explanation for all this freakish shit. A quick _shunpo_ brought him back to the intersection, and even before he could reach out a hand to grab the wiry shoulder of the blond kid, a thin hand closed around his wrist in an iron grip.

"I'm not the enemy," the boy said evenly.

"I _know_ that, damn it," Renji began, snatching his wrist away. "But–" The boy cut him off with a flick of his hand. He turned to pin Renji with a hard stare.

"I'm sure you're all very confused by now, but just so you know, the only one you should blame is Kurosaki here for being so damn _reckless_," the boy replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Ichigo. He whirled again to face Ichigo.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Shinji?" Ichigo demanded.

"It means that just because you haven't been specifically singled out by Aizen's master plans, _kiddo_, it doesn't mean you're Mr. Invincible," the boy – Shinji – retorted. Renji's brow furrowed; how the _hell_ did this Shinji person know of Aizen? "You know better than to lose control like that – I thought you'd learned your lesson from training, but _noooo_."

"I thought I _had_ control, jackass!"

"Well, then explain what the hell just happened, then!"

"Fuck you, Shinji. _Fuck. You._"

"You're too valuable of a fighter to let yourself slip like that, Kurosaki. You _know_ that."

Ichigo looked away. "It won't happen again."

Shinji folded his arms, regarding Ichigo with a smirk. "Prove it, then." When Ichigo reached for his zanpakutou, Shinji cut him off with a wave of his hand. "No, not now, idiot. Later – we're obviously not done with your training just yet. You still have to hold up your part of the deal, don't forget."

Ichigo scowled at his back as Shinji turned to face Renji. He pinned Renji with a solemn stare, which startled him.

"Keep an eye on him, Abarai."

And before Renji could finish sputtering long enough to ask Shinji how the _fuck_ he knew his name, Shinji was no longer there.

Ikkaku and Yumichika arrived just as Shinji left, both giving Ichigo weird looks. Ichigo looked away, face red. He knew, the dumb shit – and Renji was going to demand the explanation out of him just as soon as they saw to Rukia's injuries.

* * *

Hitsugaya wasn't sure when he began realizing he was awake. He knew he had been aware for some time, but hadn't moved to open his eyes – it felt good, just resting like this. Small pains and aches in his chest would flare up every so often, but as those became less frequent, he found it much easier to simply relax. It had been far too long since he'd been able to do that last.

Part of his mind recalled hearing Matsumoto's voice, speaking softly from beside him. He wondered where he was – at his makeshift office in Orihime's small apartment, perhaps – but it didn't seem important just yet. She was probably just letting him sleep. She had been worried a great deal lately about–

Something was wrong. This wasn't his office, he realized suddenly; he wasn't even in the realm of the Living. Scrambling desperately for an explanation, he tried recalling the last thing that had happened before he had dozed off, and couldn't remember anything except pain and the pungent scent of his own sweat and fear. Where the hell was he? What had happened? He inhaled sharply, eyelids flying open in a sudden panic, crying out as his vision went white from a deep, stabbing pain in his chest. _Oh god, ohgodohgodohgod–_

A small pressure squeezing his hand chased the panicked blur away from his vision, and the white light faded to the dimmed outline of a dark ceiling. Trying to recapture lost breath, he breathed harshly, listening to the sound of his own soft wheezing that accompanied dull pain resonating from deep within his lungs. Wanting to see what had trapped his hand, he slowly turned his head to the side and saw a petite silhouette laying on the floor beside his futon, one soft hand gripping his.

_Hinamori._

Closing his eyes, he took an experimental deep breath, and noticed that it hurt less when he breathed through his nose slowly. Hinamori was sleeping next to his futon, holding his hand the way she used to when he was sick during their childhood in Rukongai. There was no danger here. The thought helped calm him, making him want to simply drift back to the relaxed state of semi-consciousness so that he could enjoy the moment.

"H-Hitsugaya-taichou?" a soft voice on the other side of the futon whispered, nearly startling him. Hitsugaya's eyes opened again to see Hanatarou's concerned face hovering above him. "Ah! You are awake!"

Hitsugaya frowned, trying again to piece together what had happened – this time without the panic and the pain – and then it occurred to him that he knew exactly where he was: the infirmary in the Fourth Division.

"–cry out earlier; are you still in pain?" Hanatarou was saying.

Hitsugaya blinked, trying to clear his throat so he could answer. "What… happened?" he croaked, the harsh sound of his own voice surprising him.

Hanatarou's face was illuminated in the light of a healing kidou, the feel of the healer's reiatsu foreign and strange as it poured into his chest and chased away some of the remnant pain. "Don't try to speak too much, Hitsugaya-taichou. Unohana-taichou will be by soon to check on you, and she can answer any questions you might have then." Hanatarou's voice stayed low, his eyes fixed on his own hands as he spoke, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Matsu…Matsumoto?" Hitsugaya asked suddenly – she had been there, hadn't she? If she had been there, then who was looking after their detail in the Living World? He tried sitting up, but Hanatarou pressed harder on his sore chest.

"Matsumoto is resting, Hitsugaya-taichou," Hanatarou replied with a stern glare. "Please, don't strain yourself. You need to rest."

Hanatarou's orders were probably sound - if Hanatarou's strength was enough to hold him down, he was likely very weak. Embarrassing as it was, he felt too exhausted to even care about his pride at this point. A sleeping Hinamori wouldn't care, and so far she was the only witness aside from Hanatarou.

He closed his eyes again, trying to piece together what had happened. It made sense that he would be here in the Fourth Division, but the details were fuzzy. He felt mildly disoriented - some time had passed since he last recalled anything clearly, and even then he couldn't quite recall what it was that had brought him back to Seireitei aside from the fact that it had been important - but now that he knew where he was, it didn't cause him any sort of panic. Matsumoto was there with him, and if she was resting, it was likely that he had been unconscious for some time now and that she had been there with him for much of it. It did cross his mind that he had questions for Hanatarou, but when he opened his eyes to ask them, Hanatarou was gone.

So was Hinamori. In her place, there sat a small stuffed dragon next to the makura, visible seams and button eyes giving away its handmade nature. Frowning, he wondered who had made it, and when it had been placed there.

He had drifted off again, and hadn't even realized it. Swallowing painfully - his mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton - he noticed that the sun was out; its rays peeked through the cracks of the shoji on the far side of the room, but he couldn't tell what time of day it was at this angle. His head felt like a weighted metal ball, and his eyes stung with grit from sleep and exhaustion. Simply laying still made him feel mildly dizzy and extremely light-headed. Even when he had been badly wounded, he hadn't felt quite this--

Hanatarou had put him under on purpose, the bastard.

"Glad to see you awake again, Hitsugaya." Hitsugaya flinched in surprise when he heard Unohana's gentle voice from above his head, but calmed quickly when he realized who was in the room with him. "Hanatarou told me that you had regained consciousness yesterday before dawn, but had to put you back to sleep. Were you misbehaving, young one?"

Hitsugaya hadn't expected to be teased upon waking up again, but it was oddly comforting. He grunted in reply, eyes meeting Unohana's as she approached his futon.

"We were all worried about you," Unohana continued, kneeling beside him. "When you're ready, there are already several people who wish to come see you."

Hitsugaya looked away as Unohana folded the covers away from his chest. He wasn't sure he was prepared to allow any more people to be party to his weakness; there had been more than enough witnesses to the fact that he nearly been killed - _again_ - by something he couldn't see. Ah, now he remembered why he was here.

_Karura. That's what Hyourinmaru called that bird-creature._ How many captains had been in that room with him when Yamamoto questioned him? How many of them had seen him in that losing battle? Hitsugaya stiffened when he felt Unohana's soft hands moving aside the bandages wrapping his torso.

"How is the pain?" Unohana asked, and Hitsugaya relaxed; she had misread the gesture, thankfully.

Hitsugaya didn't have to think on it for long to take stock; he still felt a dull, resounding ache in his lungs with every breath, his body heavy and sore. But truthfully, it wasn't as bad as he expected it to be. The Fourth Division truly had skilled healers.

"Still there, but dull," he replied hoarsely. Coughing to clear his throat, he winced as the pain in his chest flared briefly before it faded again. Whatever they were doing for the pain, it was working rather well.

Unohana nodded in response, hands now glowing over his chest. "It will continue to fade, but don't get frustrated if it takes a little more time than you'd like. You were badly wounded, Hitsugaya-taichou, so let the pain be a reminder not to push yourself too hard."

Hitsugaya frowned, but he nodded regardless. He didn't dare look down to see the damage himself; from the feel of it, Karura had torn him open like a vulture would a carcass. He had thought the wounds were only in his mind at first, that reality had blended back with the dream in order to torment him further, but now it was obvious that the last nightmare he recalled before finding himself back in the safe haven of his subconscious had been real.

"How–" He shifted uncomfortably, and Unohana paused in her ministrations, waiting patiently for him to speak. "How bad…?"

Unohana sighed. "Perhaps it is best not to ask now."

Hitsugaya resisted the urge to grab her hands and insist that she explain, but the serious look in her eyes make him think better of that idea. Instead, he looked away, and saw button eyes staring back at him. The handmade dragon – who the _hell_ was trying to tell him how much of a _child _they thought he was–

"Matsumoto brought that in for you, Hitsugaya-taichou," Unohana explained; she must have seen him scowling at it. "The dragon is a symbol of good health; she was hoping it would lift your spirits some."

_Oh._ Hitsugaya felt almost sheepish for the earlier mental outburst, and silently apologized to the dragon. It simply stared back at him with its button eyes, as much a sign of forgiveness as he'd ever get.

_Gods. I must be really out of it if I'm talking to a toy dragon._

Unohana's hands stopped glowing, and she suddenly slipped her hands beneath Hitsugaya's back and wound bandages back around his chest. He finally caught a glimpse of what Karura's claws had done to him, and he swallowed back bile – red, ragged lines coursed his chest from hip to shoulder. They looked terrible, even though they were clearly on the mend. He wouldn't be surprised if they left scars.

"Yamamoto will want to speak with you as soon as I deem you well enough to sit up on your own." Unohana explained once she drew the covers back up to Hitsugaya's shoulders. "For now, you need rest. I will have Koutetsu-san come by later to bring you something to eat that will be gentle on your stomach; you may sit up then, but please let her help you." She turned, preparing to leave the room.

He still had questions. "Unohana-san…"

"Rest, Hitsugaya." Before he could protest, she placed a gentle hand to his forehead, and the room swirled to black. Just before he faded entirely, however, he heard Unohana's voice whisper, _"You made it, young dragon. Thank you."_

* * *

_**.concluded in part X.**_

* * *

_**.notes.**_

_Two things. First of all, I know that Iemura is technically the third seat of the Fourth Division. However, from what I could tell of him from the manga, he really isn't much of a healer, hence why I didn't have him step in. Instead, I had a Hanatarou cameo and tossed in an OC; there are often multiple people occupying an officer's seat in each division, hence my decision to do so there._

_Secondly, I tried as best I could to stick to Soul Society medicine, but it's really hard to tell what that entails. I basically went through the section of the manga after Aizen's betrayal where the Fourth Division is scrambling around and trying to heal all the injured parties, and did guesswork from there. _

_So I claim artistic liberty, though if you see mistakes, feel free to point them out. (I know I already made a bunch of canonical errors; I'm trying to figure out how to squeak by on them.)_

* * *


	10. Part X

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite-sama. Used and abused without permission for non-profitable entertainment purposes._

_Yes, I know this was a long time coming. Notes are at the end of the chapter._

_Except this: Shout out for my awesome, awesome friend __**Kellen **__(as always), who again let me throw this at her constantly for encouragement and quick flow and plot checks. All mistakes left are still mine. Hurr._

* * *

_**Part X**_

Ichigo completely ignored Rukia's murmured protests against his chest as he carried her back towards Urahara's shop. Well, not entirely – he did tell her to shut the hell up and rest at one point – but for the most part, his mind was racing with more than enough thoughts on his own, and Rukia's tired voice wasn't helping him sort through them. Once again, he hadn't been strong enough to protect those around him, and once again, he had nearly lost control to the damned son of a bitch he had the grand misfortune of sharing a body with.

Orihime looked startled when Ichigo kicked the door down to the front of the shop, but the surprise quickly faded as Orihime assessed the situation and helped Rukia lay down once she pried herself from Ichigo's arms. Ichigo watched as Orihime looked over Rukia's wounds, ignoring as Abarai and the others crowded in behind him. Rukia hissed when Orihime hit a tender spot, and Ichigo had to turn away then.

"She's going to be fine," he heard Orihime say in a light-hearted voice. "A little sore, but fine."

Abarai sighed in relief behind him, echoing his own exhaled breath. Then, Ichigo burst out the door, intent on finding Shinji and demanding some goddamned answers. He hesitated only a heartbeat when he heard Rukia call his name, but ignored it as he rushed towards where he knew he could find Shinji – one of the nearer neighborhood parks. Shinji was waiting for him, perched on top of the slide with a neutral expression, body relaxed in vain confidence as if waiting, knowing that Ichigo was coming

"Shinji, you bastard, I think it's about time you explained a few things," Ichigo growled as he approached the play structure.

A look of mock insult spread across Shinji's face. "What, no 'Why thank you, Shinji-sama, for tossing my stupid ass back in line back there?' or, 'Shinji-sama, I owe you my life for keeping me from slaughtering all my little friends, how can I ever repay you?' You should learn some manners, Kurosaki." Shinji stood and stretched his arms over his head. "So, come to finish what you were trying to start earlier? Wanna go?"

"What the fuck did you mean when you said that shorty-taichou was just a pawn in the game?" Ichigo said, ignoring Shinji's snide remarks. "What game are you talking about here?"

Shinji sighed dramatically, leaping down from his perch to land only feet away from where Ichigo was standing. Leaning forward conspiratorially, he smiled that broad, obnoxious grin of his that made Ichigo want to punch him in the face. For a few moments, he said nothing as they stared each other down.

"Are you entirely sure you're on the right side, Ichigo?" Shinji finally said. "Because I need to know what your intentions are here. You really planning to become one of Yamamoto's lapdogs, or are you in it for keeps?"

Ichigo scowled. "The fuck – I just want people _here_, like my goddamned family, to stay safe. Any side that opposes what Aizen's trying to do will do for me, as long as the job gets done."

Shinji clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Ah, kiddo, but that is where you are mistaken. It _does _matter what side you're on, and I hate to break it to you, but those Gotei clowns aren't going to all make it out of this alive."

The reply was almost like a slap to the face, and Ichigo somehow managed not to flinch. "Damn it, stop it with this vague, _I-know-better-than-you_ shit. It's getting old, Shinji. _What the fuck is going on?_"

Shinji started walking towards the short outer concrete wall that surrounded the park's small perimeter. "You know very well by now – I'd hope – that there's a war coming. It's going to come down between Aizen and his faction taking over the Living World, and anyone who opposes him, which – as you know – include not only Soul Society, but Vaizard as well."

"I knew all that, jackass."

"Then keep listening, Kurosaki," Shinji said, tone completely serious. "When I asked you which side you're on, that didn't include Aizen. I'm talking about which side you're gonna be on when you do oppose that bastard."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "I hardly see how that matters."

"Oh, but it _does_," Shinji replied. "Here's the deal – Soul Society knows about the Vaizard. Yamamoto's known about us since the beginning, mind, not that he likes us any for it. He sees us as an abomination – a freak accident out of science and medicine and the human soul's capacity. In all honesty, I think he'd rather see us dead, much like what he tried to do with the Quincy. I'm shocked he's let you get away with running around as freely as you do now for so long; he must be blind if he didn't see that you are also Vaizard." Shinji paused and cracked his neck. "But what he doesn't really get is the fact that we're pretty much his last line of defense, at this point. He's got such a wide open gap in his armor that he's going to have a huge surprise coming if he thinks his little pawns can handle Aizen's coming storm."

"And why is that?" Ichigo swallowed a lump that was forming in his throat.

Then Shinji smiled, and it made the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck stand up. "Because Aizen's been planning this for far longer than Yamamoto realizes. There are so many pitfalls and booby traps within _his own goddamned troops_ that Yamamoto can never hope to beat someone who can literally take his entire army down piece by piece."

A look of understanding crossed Ichigo's face. "That's why that kid captain was having trouble."

"You're starting to get it, kid," Shinji replied, nodding. "Aizen has been planning his destruction of Soul Society long before Hitsugaya was even alive as a human. That other white-haired captain – the one with the long hair and the nasty cough – he's not sick by any sort of unlucky kind of chance. I have to admit, as much as I hate the guy, Aizen has a great deal of talent picking out the humans who will likely pose a threat to him in the afterlife, and then he lays down traps and pitfalls within the humans' lives – and deaths – that he can trigger later on to break them as easily as snapping toothpicks."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You're saying that they _planned _to have that white-haired kid break down long before he was even a shinigami?" he said, doubt edging into his tone.

"You'd be surprised, Kurosaki," Shinji replied. "I guess you really don't quite get what you're up against, do you?"

The smug self-assurance with which Shinji regarded Ichigo started to make the younger man even more irritated than he was before, but it was pretty obvious that Shinji did know a great deal more about the situation than Ichigo had ever been privy to with Soul Society. Not that he was officially part of their organization, but they didn't seem to mind including him when it suited their purposes.

Shinji had a few good points going, here. But it still didn't make Ichigo like him any more.

"Wait a second – how do I fit into all of this?" Ichigo suddenly asked, suspicious.

The smile that spread across Shinji's face made Ichigo shudder. "That's because you're the trump card, Kurosaki," he said slowly. "Aizen wasn't expecting someone like you to come along, because you were the result of something that should have worked in his favor. That's the main reason why Soul Society has been so welcoming to you, even as an outsider brat – I think Yamamoto's figured out that you're really their last line of defense."

Ichigo wasn't sure what to say to that; it seemed like a lot of pressure to him, but at the same time... hadn't he pledged to do whatever it took to protect his family and friends? He swallowed painfully around a lump in his throat.

"I think you're starting to get the idea that this is serious shit," Shinji said approvingly.

"And you're telling me that the Vaizard stand a better chance against Aizen than the Gotei captains do, because...?"

"Because Aizen underestimates our potential," Shinji replied. "Sounds a lot like Yama-jii, doesn't it? He also thought we were a freak accident – he's half the reason why we're not part of Soul Society. But he's got another thing coming, if he thinks he can dismiss us so easily."

Frowning, Ichigo opened his mouth to ask the first thing that came to mind – why, if Aizen was so goddamned fucking smart, would he ignore a pretty blatant threat like the Vaizard? But then he really thought about it, and remembered that the Vaizard were vastly outnumbered, and it sounded like Aizen had already had bad dealings with Shinji and company in the past. Maybe that's why Aizen hadn't really paid much attention to them – they were a small outcast faction that he didn't think had enough power to pose a threat in the upcoming war.

"So you really think that one more person would make that big of a difference?" Ichigo asked, still doubtful about the entire situation. Hell, he hardly knew _what _to think anymore.

"That, my boy, is where you've entirely underestimated yourself," he said, his flat-toothed grin growing even broader than it had been before.

Ichigo waited for more explanation, but after a few moments of staring down Shinji, he knew he wasn't going to get one without some sort of commitment on his part. He took several deep breaths; hell, he was already pretty damn far into this mess as it was. What difference would one more step down the rabbit hole make? It wasn't like he was breaking his ties with Soul Society or its shinigami, really.

... He hoped.

"What do you want from me?" he finally said, sighing.

Against all anatomical odds, Shinji's grin had to have broken some kind of record as it grew even wider. "That's more like it, Kurosaki. Exactly what I wanted to hear."

* * *

Urahara was at it again.

Renji knew this, mainly because he hadn't seen the man in freaking _days _now, and he'd been around Urahara's shop for most of that time. For sake of simplicity, Renji had made the executive decision of making Orihime stay there, except when they all went to school together. It seemed odd to him that they were all staying at Urahara's when they rarely saw him, but Renji was pretty sure Urahara didn't care. Wherever he was. Probably in the lab that Renji was sure was hidden somewhere around the shop itself.

The tension that had built steadily just after the latest attack had faded by now. Rukia was fine, with hardly a mark on her – Orihime's skills seemed to become more fine-tuned and honed every time she used them – and Ichigo had finally stopped moping around like a whiny, petulant child. He was still pretty quiet, even when Rukia tried almost endlessly to get answers out of him regarding the blond-haired guy they'd seen at the fight, but at least he wasn't being so goddamned tetchy anymore.

... Except now that Ichigo wasn't so easily goaded, Renji decided things had become pretty damn boring again. Rangiku still hadn't returned from Soul Society, and none of them had heard any word on Hitsugaya-taichou's condition. Renji had to admit that he wondered if something really bad had happened while they were gone – Rangiku seemed worried as hell when she left – but it was really hard to tell.

Renji hated being left out of the loop. It made him feel vulnerable, in case something else came up that he wouldn't know how to handle responsibly because he didn't have enough information. He wondered if this was how Hitsugaya-taichou felt when he was in charge, and didn't have all the pieces to the puzzle.

Who was that blond kid anyway? He'd seemed pretty capable of handling the Arrancar, and even handling Ichigo in his transformed state. Ichigo seemed to know him, too – and hadn't Renji seen the guy around school before? It was so fucking confusing, sometimes.

So was the situation with Orihime. Why the hell did Aizen want someone whose skill set included a great deal of healing and barrier-creating, and nothing more? Orihime was useful in times of battle, to be sure, but she wasn't a fighter, not in the least. And it seemed like Aizen had no shortage of Arrancar – who were practically indestructible anyway, it seemed – so he wouldn't necessarily need a healer to keep his army up. Renji scrubbed his face with his hand; none of this made any fucking sense.

He stared at the homework he was supposed to be doing for school – _what a joke history homework is, _he found himself thinking with wry amusement – and decided he should at least try to be productive. It wasn't like he had anything better to do right now, except train down in Urahara's underground training lair. Ikkaku was likely down there, working on improving his bankai (Renji wasn't supposed to know about it, but he did anyway). He had no clue where Yumichika was, and part of him really didn't _want _to know. Rukia was in the room with him, completely absorbed in an art class project.

The homework assignment took him a grand total of ten minutes, and after that, Renji decided he'd been more than productive enough, and that he hated being this damn bored. Slamming his textbook closed, he summoned a hell butterfly and – ignoring Rukia's bewildered stares – began relaying an angry message to Matsumoto demanding some _goddamned answers_ and oh yeah, _where the fuck are you?_

"Renji," Rukia said, voice low in warning. "That really isn't necessary."

Renji shot a glare at her, then stared back at the waiting butterfly. No... no, it wasn't necessary, and he really did know that. Damn it, he was even the same rank as Rangiku – lieutenant, second-in-command of a division. It was just... well, Rangiku had been a lieutenant for longer, and with a captain like Byakuya, there weren't exactly many opportunities to be a true leader.

_Suck it up and be a man, Abarai,_ he told himself. Clearing his throat, he looked back at Rukia – she was still staring intently at him, and he couldn't hold it for long. He looked away again and back at the butterfly, and with a quick chant, cleared the initial message and sent a new, simpler, much more to-the-point one:

_Requesting an update. Abarai-fukutaichou._

The butterfly delicately lifted itself into the air and disappeared. Renji shot another look back at Rukia, who was concentrating – by all appearances – intently on her art project again; but he didn't miss the small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

All he had to do now was wait.

... _Damn it._

Three hours passed, and just before Rukia decided to throw a binding kidou at Renji, a hell butterfly appeared and hovered in front of Renji's scowling face. Renji blinked a few times, almost forgetting that he had been waiting for that particular response, and then nearly smashed the poor messenger butterfly to pieces when he grabbed at it to find the message it carried.

"_Where are you? Go to Orihime-chan's apartment for a call."_

Renji looked up at Rukia – who had also heard the message – and she nodded. "I'll keep an eye on Orihime-chan," she said quietly. "Ichigo should be back soon, too."

Renji thanked her, and then scrambled for a light jacket and shoes as he headed out the door, relieved to know that Ran had managed to get back to him, but concerned that it had taken her an entire three hours to send that message. Unless, of course, she had been trying to call the communications portal in Orihime's apartment the entire time (but not for an entire three hours, he hoped).

* * *

Hitsugaya winced as he shifted uncomfortably under Yamamoto's intense, cool stare. They were in one of the First Division's traditional tea rooms, kneeling across from a _cha-no-yu_ setting on the tatami mat floor. It didn't matter that in the tea ceremony, rank was traditionally equalized between tea master and guest; the feeling just didn't permeate the room, leaving the atmosphere thick with tension. The formality of the ceremony was almost embarrassing to Hitsugaya, though he felt almost a vindictive hope that it was a sign that Yamamoto was feeling guilty for how he'd handled the situation with Karura.

They had foregone the nakadachi in favor of not making Hitsugaya move around excessively, the young captain swallowed several sips of water and washed his hands with a warm cloth in ritual purification, having trouble not letting his hands shake under Yamamoto's gaze. The older captain finally looked away as he placed a tall, freshly-woven bamboo basket of flowers in between them. A simple _chabana_ arrangement consisting of a knobby twig, a breathtakingly beautiful white fringed iris with blue and orange patterns on its drooping petals, and a tall grass caught Hitsugaya almost by surprise. The iris could mean anything in this case. It was somewhat insulting, for the flower arrangement to leave him wondering what Yamamoto truly meant by it.

The fact that Yamamoto had chosen a tea ceremony now seemed almost ironic to Hitsugaya. It was hardly becoming a place of reconciliation, or of celebrating a return to health for the younger captain. What was the purpose of this requested audience, anyway?

It had taken over a week before Unohana would allow Hitsugaya to have an audience with Yamamoto – the old man really must have infuriated the healer, Hitsugaya realized later – and while it had been frustrating at first, Hitsugaya was feeling rather unsettled now that he was finally here. Yama-jii's face was never a good place to look for any sort of indication of what the old captain was thinking; it certainly wasn't helping now. Hitsugaya shifted again, ignoring the small aches as he did so.

They proceeded through the _cha-no-yu _ceremony in relative silence – broken only by the ritual exchanges as was customary – Yamamoto preparing and serving the tea while Hitsugaya politely waited through the traditional steps. Once they were finished with the formal end of the ceremony, Yamamoto straightened fully and regarded Hitsugaya with that same irritatingly blank stare that told Hitsugaya nothing of what was to come.

"We have a great deal to discuss, Hitsugaya-taichou," Yamamoto finally said. Hitsugaya had to restrain a snort at the comment; of _course _they had a lot to talk about. That was the whole reason he'd even bothered to climb out of the infirmary to get there. "There are a lot of things that I need to tell you, now that you're in the right state of mind to be able to handle them."

Hitsugaya was slightly taken aback. _Right state of mind? _As if he had been incapable of thinking clearly on his own before – he tried hard not to let the insult show on his face, hoping that Yamamoto really hadn't meant it that way. He said nothing, waiting for the older captain to continue speaking.

"Aizen and his cohorts placed a rather unfortunate curse upon you long before you ever came to us, Hitsugaya-kun. It appears that our enemy has even been consorting with the gods of other realms outside Soul Society – he must have discovered your affinity with the ancient dragon lords long ago, and had Gin send you one of the Karura, letting it sit dormant within you before you ever joined Gotei."

"One of the Karura?" Hitsugaya vaguely recalled both Yamamoto (and Hyourinmaru, if that hadn't been a dream) addressing the beast dwelling in him as "Karura," but he hadn't realized it was in reference to it as part of a whole. A race of beings, perhaps?

"The Karura are harmless guardian entities, in their most natural states. But as the old folk tale says, there is a feud between the dragons and the crows – around all naga, including the dragons, Karura often turn violent and will try to consume their perceived enemies."

_Ah._ If this feud was part of lore, there was likely truth to it, and Aizen probably had known about that ahead of time. And if that was the case... "Aizen must have seen Hyourinmaru before my death, then."

Yamamoto nodded slowly. "It is possible that either Gin or Aizen – perhaps both – knew of your connection with the dragons, and knew that they could use the Karura against it. There are rare cases in which zanpakutou begin to materialize long before the death of a human's soul. Ukitake's zanpakutou did the same."

_Ukitake-taichou? _The revelation came as a bit of a surprise to Hitsugaya; perhaps that was why the sickly, white-haired captain seemed to have some kind of attachment to him. Aside from them both having white hair – unless that had something to do with it as well? _But that is beside the point in this conversation._

"So Karura became more of a curse for me. Why now? Why not when Hyourinmaru first awoke here in Soul Society?" There had to be some kind of explanation.

"That much, we're uncertain of. Aizen or Gin may have placed in some kind of failsafe – a trigger, if you will – in your subconscious, and it somehow managed to activate recently. It would account for a lot of the changes you've been experiencing of late. I had you come back from the Living World as soon as I realized what was going on. If we had waited any longer, Karura would have started to consume Hyourinmaru – and you, by extension. It could have rendered you incapable of your duties as a shinigami, if it didn't kill you first."

The ordeal with the puppet-hollow – perhaps that was some kind of trigger, to break the seal on Karura. It would lend a motive to what had seemingly been a random attack at the time.

Hitsugaya frowned, the last half of what Yamamoto had said sinking in. "Then why the farce with the interrogation, if you knew? Why not just tell me outright?" _Why let it become so damned deadly first?_

Yamamoto breathed deeply through his nose, and out through his mouth. Then he spoke. "The Karura spirit in you didn't _need_ to wait as long as it did before it attacked. Because it was linked to your subconsciousness, we couldn't keep you informed; it would have been like sharing information directly with the enemy. We had to let it think it was winning until the moment we were ready to perform the actual exorcism."

So they had been preparing a ritual, trying to keep Karura out of the loop._ That much makes sense, but... _"What was in the serum?"

"The only thing that can ward against an angered Karura is liquid blessed and purified by a Buddhist priest. What we gave you was exactly that – it was essentially a talisman, intended to help protect you and Hyourinmaru from Karura."

That would explain what the serum was and why Karura seemed to act up when it was introduced, but that still didn't explain why he seemed to have such a bad reaction to it. Hitsugaya had a bad feeling that Yamamoto wasn't telling him everything, and worse, he probably would never tell. He resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose in distaste, and to call Yamamoto out on the situation anyway – it wouldn't do anything but likely irritate the old man, and Hitsugaya wouldn't get the information he wanted.

Instead, Hitsugaya remained silent and kept an even stare with Yamamoto's, whose eyes were glittering beneath the narrow opening between the old man's wrinkled eyelids. There was almost a challenge there, and Hitsugaya felt more and more upset and less comfortable the longer he was in the man's presence.

"I wish things hadn't needed to be that way, Hitsugaya-kun, but you do need to understand that if Karura had completely taken over your body, there would have been far more trouble than what we faced in my office that day. I don't think you would have wanted to live with that," Yamamoto finally said.

_That still isn't an apology,_ Hitsugaya noted. But as much as Hitsugaya hated to admit it, Yamamoto had a point – even if he absolutely did not agree with the method, nor did he think he was getting the full story, the main issue was that Karura had been stopped. He wasn't sure he could have lived with himself if Karura had managed to cause more devastating problems in his own body than the crow deity already had. Shaking his head slightly to clear the gruesome images that accompanied that thought, he remained silent for a few moments.

"... Why go through all that trouble?" he asked, after several moments' pause. "Why me?"

"Aizen's war has already begun, no matter what kind of warning he gave us." Yamamoto hesitated, and again, Hitsugaya got the feeling that he was getting a very abridged version of the whole explanation. "And I don't think you are the only one that Aizen has targeted in this manner. I have a feeling that there are far more... _surprises_ in store for us in the near future."

_Of course there are, _Hitsugaya carefully didn't say aloud. _Aizen's obviously planned this a long while back; he's a top-class strategist. There's no way in hell he wouldn't keep far more cards up his sleeve than necessary._

_... But if Aizen had planned this out ahead of time, and this Karura deity was supposed to incapacitate me, then why am I still alive?_ Hitsugaya shuddered at the thought. Aizen's plan couldn't have simply failed, could it? Wishful thinking, at best. _If that is indeed his intention – to kill me, or take down Yamamoto's other defenses._

_There has to be something else coming._

Yamamoto's cool stare was on him again, and Hitsugaya brought himself back to the conversation at hand and nodded slightly. Yes, Aizen had surprises for them. He would have to take some time to process this information, and certainly not in front of Yamamoto.

"Is that all you wished to say to me?" he asked, hesitantly.

Yamamoto's eyelids flared open almost imperceptibly."I also want to caution you, in regards to vice-captain Hinamori Momo."

Hitsugaya almost flinched, as if he'd been slapped._ Almost._ He hadn't seen that coming, to be honest, though he really should have. There had been far too many issues surrounding his childhood friend of late. _Carefully – _"H-Hinamori? What does she have to do with this?"

"I am afraid that Aizen's hypnosis still has a stranglehold on her ability to make sound judgments." Yamamoto paused, studying Hitsugaya seriously. The younger captain fidgeted. "Until we can tell otherwise, I would like you to proceed with extreme caution when discussing important matters around Hinamori-fukutaichou."

_Of course not. _Hitsugaya had figured out quite some time ago that there was still something not quite right in Momo's mind. Aizen had horribly confused her, and he couldn't blame her if she just needed the _time _to get things sorted out properly in her mind. Until she did, she was a liability – a dangerous one, at that. He chose to say nothing of this to Yamamoto; the old man already knew that, obviously.

He bowed his head slightly in an obedient gesture. "Yes, Yamamoto-soutaichou."

"Might I ask a favor of you as well, Hitsugaya-taichou?"

_Ah. _Yamamoto was now back to using formalities – the previous conversation was now over, and the old man had a business proposition. Hitsugaya quirked an eyebrow. "Sir?"

"Once you return to your post in Karakura, I'd like you to keep an eye on Kurosaki-san."

Hitsugaya's eyebrow rose higher. The tone Yamamoto used... without having said a word on the matter, Hitsugaya knew immediately that Yamamoto did _not _want Kurosaki – or any of his other subordinates, here in Soul Society or Karakura – to know about this request. Yamamoto wanted him to spy on Kurosaki.

The air felt thick and heavy around the tea room now, and it made Hitsugaya shift again in his seat. _What are you planning to do with this information, Yama-jii? What are your plans for Ichigo now? _

He didn't have a choice, however. Not in his current position, at his current state of health. Again, he had to strongly keep his expression neutral to suppress a snarl. "I will do as you request, Yamamoto-soutaichou," he said, proud that his voice was as even and neutral as he'd intended it to be.

Yamamoto's eyes narrowed as his lips curled up into what could almost be called a smile, if Yamamoto was even capable. He seemed pleased enough. "Please take care of your health, Hitsugaya-taichou," he said, friendly but crisply fake.

Hitsugaya bowed as low as he was able. "Thank you, Soutaichou."

He stood, wincing as his aches complained over the time spent in a sitting position, and made his exit as properly as he could. As he left the room, he took a deep breath, reveling in how much lighter the air was outside the tea room – or how heavy it had been inside. Though it lifted what felt like a heavy burden off his back, Hitsugaya still felt drained, and knew he would be spent for the day once he made it back to his own quarters. He hated feeling this weak and vulnerable, but at least it gave him time to think over the strange, uncomfortable conversation.

Perhaps there was some merit to the backlash being murmured through some of the ranks in Gotei – there had been a lot of doubt that Yamamoto could capably and effectively lead Gotei against the coming war with Aizen. These had surfaced just after Aizen's (and his companions') betrayal, in the midst of a lot of confusion and reorganization. And now that Hitsugaya had had the chance to discuss a few of the pending issues with Yamamoto, as subtle as the inferences had been, Hitsugaya began to entertain thoughts along the same line. His stomach clenched painfully, and he knew it had nothing to do with his wounds.

* * *

"Matsumoto."

Rangiku flinched, freezing in her tracks, one foot midair with a toe pointed as she tried – rather unsuccessfully – to tiptoe past Hitsugaya's office. He wasn't even _looking up _from the stack of papers he held in one hand; _how the hell did he do that?_

"Taichou?" she asked, innocently – both feet now planted on the ground as if she'd meant to be caught anyway. She knew exactly what he was talking about, and could almost see the irritation manifesting itself in a dark cloud around the captain. _Shit, _she was going to be in trouble.

"You didn't finish this report – it was due four days ago."

Matsumoto chewed on her lip, then approached Hitsugaya's desk with her hands clasped together in front of her. "I'm so sorry, Taichou!" she said dramatically. "You were still on leave, and I was positively _ill _with worry the entire time! You couldn't possibly expect me to work under such harsh mental conditions, could you?"

Hitsugaya finally looked up, frowning. "Let me guess – you were so worried, that you went out partying all night three nights in a row."

"Of course!" She clapped her hands. _Brilliant! _"I had to distract myself with alcohol, otherwise I never would have had any sleep!"

He glared. "You know damn well it was just a formality for me to stay there an extra few nights," he growled, thrusting the half-filled paper in her direction. "Cut the crap and the dramatics, take this report, and do it _right._"

_Ouch. _Matsumoto stuck out her lower lip as she took the paper. First day back, and he was already cracking the whip like a slave driver, the grouch. "You're no fun at _all_."

"And that's why I'm in charge," he replied flatly.

He had turned his attention back to the stack of papers, and was no longer looking at her; she took the moment to study him, while she had it. For the first time in a long time, Hitsugaya hadn't spiked his hair up and out of his face, and it hung in unruly clumps around his face. Maybe he had just been too tired to deal with his hair; she looked closer and realized that he _still_ looked tired, even after so much rest, never mind the fact that most of it had been ordered by Unohana. The exhaustion wasn't quite there, though, and that much was a relief. She really _had _been worried, and it _had_ helped her to relax by going out to drink after so much stress. Besides, Hitsugaya _liked _doing the paperwork, as much as he grumbled about it.

Suddenly, Hitsugaya looked up and shot Matsumoto an inquisitive glance, raising an eyebrow and looking somewhat suspicious. "Was there something else?"

Clearing her throat, Matsumoto shook her head and smiled. "Nothing. I'll go make some tea."

Hitsugaya looked at her uncertainly again for a moment, then sighed and turned back to his work. Some things never changed, even after Hitsugaya had spent an entire month at this point recovering in the Fourth's rooms. He still was the same crabby, workaholic captain she knew from long before, despite the new scars he bore across his chest and stomach as a reminder. (Matsumoto hadn't seen them herself, but Koutetsu had told her about them.) That much wasn't about to change any time soon.

And yet, at the same time, everything had changed. Matsumoto just wasn't sure _how _yet.

* * *

If Hitsugaya heard _one more voice _whispering outside his borrowed bedroom – just _one –_ he was going to have to kill something. Or someone. Because some certain people here just _did not know how to whisper _without making it so loud and grating that it cut straight through Urahara's paper-thin walls. Contrary to popular belief, talking wasn't so bad – it was background noise, and thus easy to tune out while he tried falling asleep. Whispering?

... They honestly thought they wouldn't wake him by whispering, did they?

Hitsugaya flopped onto his back and glared at the dark ceiling. It wasn't like he was made of glass, goddamn it; it was almost embarrassing enough that Matsumoto insisted on herding him to bed like a mother would her child. And he had thought Unohana was bad.

He couldn't begrudge his lieutenant, though. Although the back paperwork from his absence had been left almost entirely up to him, Matsumoto had done a pretty good job keeping the others in Karakura in line. When she was there, at least – he'd heard, mostly from Unohana, that Matsumoto had followed him back to Soul Society shortly after the nasty exorcism. Everyone seemed to be in pretty decent spirits upon his return, so he assumed it had gone well enough.

Well, on second thought, Ichigo had been far broodier than usual; it made Hitsugaya suspicious that something had happened with the kid that nobody was telling him. Either they didn't want to trouble him, or Ichigo simply didn't want anyone else to know (which was stupid, because he was more than obviously bothered by whatever it was). And if it didn't rear its head in the near future – if that happened, Hitsugaya would just deal with it when it came up – it likely wasn't a big deal, and wasn't his business. He hoped that the latter was the situation, after all the crap they'd all had to put up with of late – and so he wouldn't have to say anything to Yamamoto. Not that he was planning to say much, unless he thought it was necessary.

Tracing his fingers along the scars trailing across his chest absentmindedly, he wrinkled his nose as he heard Matsumoto shush Ikkaku loudly. There was a pattering of feet outside his door, and then the voices moved down the hall with them. _Finally, some real quiet._

Hitsugaya turned back onto his side and closed his eyes, but it wasn't as easy to fall asleep as he was hoping it would be, even with the quiet. There was simply too much to think about, and not enough exhaustion to chase errant thoughts away for the night.

Like how he still never quite got the full picture of what had happened in Yamamoto's office after Karura had taken over. Bits and pieces of his memories were distorted and fuzzy, as if seen through shattered textured glass. Hyourinmaru had been eerily silent in the back of his mind of late. He could still feel the dragon's presence, but it was more subdued than usual. Part of him seemed to recall a dream that felt distant, and yet so _real _that sometimes he had to think twice before realizing that it had to be impossible.

... _Right? _

Hyourinmaru stirred in the back of his mind – he could almost _see_ the dragon's scales shining as they brushed his subconscious – but remained silent. Hitsugaya didn't feel anger or fear from the reassuring gesture, but it seemed as though the dragon was concentrating on something and had brushed his inquiry aside like a distracted father ruffling his son's hair without looking.

And it _irritated_ him.

Perhaps that was part of why he couldn't sleep. Hyourinmaru might have had something to do with it.

But before Hitsugaya could push his will on his own dragon spirit, the small Hollow indicator that Urahara had given him beeped twice in quick succession – making him jerk reflexively, _dammit –_ before it began wailing.

_Shit._

He fumbled his way out of the sheets and grabbed at the indicator, juggling it a bit before he managed to get a good grip on it and glare at the screen so he could figure out what it was warning him of, and thus how to make it _shut the hell up_. One look at the read-outs, however, and Hitsugaya pulled himself to his feet, grumbling._ Menos Grande._

Pulling on his robe hastily and rushing out the bedroom door, he nearly smacked directly into Renji – who was already free of his gigai and ready to go – just on the other side. Trying not to look flustered as he straightened the front of his haori, Hitsugaya looked up at the redheaded lieutenant seriously.

"It's close by," he said simply.

Renji grunted. "We can handle it," he replied gruffly. He looked away from Hitsugaya when the young captain began to show signs of irritation. "Ikkaku and I are on night watch anyway."

_A likely excuse._ Hitsugaya wanted to be pissed about how they were all treating him like he was made of spun glass, but instead he relaxed his shoulders and sighed. They needed to know that he still trusted them to do their jobs (they could easily handle a Menos Grande, especially after they'd dealt with Arrancar before), and he was pretty damn tired. And Hyourinmaru hadn't exactly been talkative lately, which made him... _uncomfortable_. _Not worried. ... Really._

"Fine," he said finally. "Just... don't make a mess. I want the report on it by noon if it goes without incident."

Renji nodded, shoulders relaxing in relief as he turned and headed out the door, calling for Ikkaku as he left.

Hitsugaya sighed once Renji was gone. This was the second Menos Grande attack that day, and the second time that Hitsugaya had let his subordinates handle it for him. He had to admit it made him feel almost useless; even though a captain's strength shouldn't be needed to handle that level of a Hollow, he still wanted to show the others that he was fully capable of standing his own ground again.

But there was that little niggling feeling of doubt in the pit of his stomach, the part of him that reminded him of Hyourinmaru's silence causing it to gnaw further into his innards. It was getting harder to shake now that he had rather easily let Renji talk him out of going on an extermination, if it could even be called a discussion.

_There will always be more_, he reminded himself as he turned and trudged back to the room to try to catch at least a little more sleep.

Without the noise, it was surprisingly easy to fall asleep in spite of the remnant feelings of doubt and frustration. He didn't dream – hadn't been doing much of that lately, it seemed – but it was a deep sleep, and when his alarm woke him a few hours later, he felt rather refreshed, if not fairly startled by the sudden noise.

"Taichou!" Matsumoto's voice floated through the other side of the shoji – she'd noticed the problem as well, then. "It's Arrancar!"

... _Shit. _If she was actually letting him know about it, then Renji and Ikkaku likely hadn't returned from taking care of the Menos Grande. Which meant that there could be other problems at hand, and in turn spelled out a long night in Hitsugaya's mind. He jerked on his robes again, tying Hyourinmaru onto his back as he rushed out the door. Matsumoto was waiting for him, and together they rushed in the direction of the signal. It was left unspoken that Urahara would keep an eye on Orihime for them.

Hitsugaya hoped that the speed they were going masked the fact that his hands were shaking. The silence in his own subconsciousness created an empty, gaping maw that made him feel almost sick with self-doubt. Could he handle this? Hadn't he done this before?

But the moment he caught sight of the Arrancar – smirking, standing with arms crossed as if it had been waiting for them purposely – Hyourinmaru suddenly roared to life in his mind, and he lost his mind to the rush of icy wind as the dragon took over.

* * *

The Menos Grande seemed almost too easy to destroy after having fought so many Arrancar of late, Renji thought. Ikkaku had taken the initiative, launched an attack the moment they saw the towering Hollow, and before Renji could blink, it was over. He hadn't even done anything.

... It was rather annoying, actually. Renji had kind of been hoping for some sort of outlet that he could vent his frustration with. It had been quiet lately, at least since the young captain had returned to his post. Nobody knew how to address Hitsugaya anymore; it wasn't like they didn't trust him to be able to do his job correctly, but from what Matsumoto had said (in the vaguest of terms), whatever had happened in Seireitei had very nearly killed Hitsugaya. Not that Hitsugaya seemed to act in a way that indicated he'd essentially been to hell and back, but Renji couldn't help but worry for the kid. Hitsugaya had been through a hell of a lot lately.

At any rate, there hadn't been much going on, and Renji once again found himself increasingly bored. This Menos Grande venture was supposed to help him, but Ikkaku had taken care of it all too quickly. So when Ikkaku suggested they go out for drinks afterwards, Renji didn't argue.

"We should've called Rangiku and Yumi," Ikkaku said absently as he stared at a can of Asahi that he'd picked up at a local convenience store. "They dig this kind of shit."

Renji nodded; they would have enjoyed this too, but Hitsugaya would've caught them if they'd gone back. He stared down at his own can of alcohol, some kind of wussy fruit beverage that Ikkaku had shoved in his hands. It wasn't providing the effect he'd been hoping for – that pleasant buzz in the back of his mind that let the world fade to white noise in the background. Nope, it'd take at least half a dozen of these to get there. At least.

He took another swig and scowled. "This shit is _nasty_," he said finally.

"Here, try this one instead–"

"I'll pick my own this time, thanks," Renji growled, rummaging through the bag they'd picked up. He pulled out a bottle of sake. "You were holding out on me, you son of a bitch."

"Hey, that one's for later, bastard!" Ikkaku grabbed for the bottle, but Renji held it up and out of the way.

"Fuck that!" Renji shoved Ikkaku's hands away and worked the cap off the bottle as quickly as he could. Taking a healthy swig out of the open bottle, he sighed contentedly as the liquid burned all the way down to his stomach.

"You're wasting it, you uncultured jackass!"

Renji smirked. "This? Still piss water, but better than that goddamned _girly _drink you made me drink earlier." His face felt oddly warm, and the smirk turned into a full-fledged grin. "It'll do."

Ikkaku opened his mouth to protest further, but the shrill wail of the damned pocket radar cut him off and made Renji jump in the process. Growling as he tried shaking some of the spilled sake off his bare arms, he shot a scowl over at Ikkaku just in time to see a wicked grin spread across the bald shinigami's face.

"'Bout fucking time," he crowed, getting to his feet – swaying a moment as his body reminded him that they'd just been drinking as much booze as fast as they could – and looking off into the direction of the signal.

"Arrancar?" Renji asked, also getting up almost too quickly.

Ikkaku didn't answer; instead, he raced off, leaving a swearing Renji in his wake. Renji increased the length of his _shunpo_ in order to catch up. _Wait for me, you asshole!_

The Arrancar, it seemed, wasn't terribly far from Urahara's shop, which could very well be an indication that the Menos Grande had shown up as an intended distraction. Matsumoto had likely picked up the signal as well. They'd have to be careful, in case this Arrancar was also ranked.

Renji nearly slipped on the ice that suddenly coated the ground beneath him, once he got close enough. Ikkaku was already skidding to a precarious stop ahead of him; Renji could barely make out his silhouette in the thickening, cold mist around them. An icy wind blew through, clearing the mist, and the mild alcohol buzz dispersed with the wind.

In the middle of the icy destruction stood a very frozen Arrancar, and just beyond it, Renji caught a glimpse of a white coat with the Tenth's kanji symbol on the back. A breath later, and the ice surrounding the Arrancar exploded in a burst of frozen wind. It was gone after that.

Hitsugaya slid his long zanpakutou back into its sheath on his back, and Renji shivered at the way the young captain's eyes practically _glowed _through the remaining mist. It took Renji a moment to realize that Hitsugaya hadn't even released his _shikai_.

_Holy fucking hell._

Renji made a mental note to never piss Hitsugaya off again. Perhaps there wasn't any cause to worry over the kid's safety anymore.

* * *

If Urahara's could have been any quieter, Matsumoto was sure she would be able to hear a fly land on the wall. And Ichigo had been missing for a few days now; according to Renji, he had gone to visit some "Vaizard" guy – a term that seemed _almost _familiar to Matsumoto, but not quite – for training. Here she thought it had been pretty damned quiet when Hitsugaya had first returned from Seireitei. It was like walking on pins and needles now.

This time, though, it was different – instead of everyone else being so blatantly worried for Hitsugaya's sake, now they all seemed almost _terrified _of him. Or at least respectfully fearful. Not that she could blame them; Hitsugaya's little display with the Arrancar had been almost entirely unexpected.

She never saw Hitsugaya as a _weak _individual, mind, but she had never particularly seen him as frighteningly powerful. It was like a second layer of seals – above and beyond the limits placed on them by Gotei's rulings – had been lifted from whatever source that drove Hitsugaya's spirit, and Matsumoto had to admit that it did make her a little hesitant to pick on the young captain the way she had before.

But when she really thought about it, Hitsugaya seemed to notice that everyone was treading lightly around him, and yet he still acted as serious and grouchy as he had before. No more, no less – but with some obvious effort to hide an exhaustion that went far beyond the physical body.

So she tried damned hard not to treat him any differently than she had before, but... it just wasn't as _easy_, now that he was less a little kid and more of a _leader_ figure. Power tended to carry a lot of followers with it; Hitsugaya's was no different, it seemed. He even _looked_ a little more mature than he had before the entire ordeal, if her eyes weren't mistaking her.

Had Aizen's precautions against Hitsugaya so long ago really put such an impressive seal on Hitsugaya's true potential? Matsumoto couldn't help but wonder if the incident with Karura had affected Hitsugaya so much that it made him seem almost like a different person without the crow deity's presence. If that was the case, did it really take a full-blown _deity _to hold the young captain back? Aizen must have pulled all kinds of strings in order to be able to harness the power of otherworldly gods. And if Aizen and Gin had taken such drastic measures against Hitsugaya, then who else might they have targeted?

Did she even show up on their radar, now?

_Gin... _

Even now, she could still remember the smile on his face when he left to join Aizen in Hueco Mundo, and it almost made her _hurt _just to think about him. How he'd worked his way past her own defenses, taken her down, and then left her out to dry. It wasn't fair, sometimes.

She would have liked to think he'd given her the choice to follow him, and though she didn't regret a single moment of remaining loyal to Hitsugaya, it still hurt to have that little seed of doubt that told her she really hadn't been given the option to stay with Gin.

Then she wondered that maybe this was what Gin had intended all along. _Is this Aizen's way of neutralizing me as well?_

If it was, then... perhaps, it was working. And it was a _damned _scary thought, one that she tried desperately not to bother her while she served afternoon tea to Hitsugaya in silence.

* * *

Shinji smirked when he managed to glean news from the Kurosaki kid that the short, white-haired captain kid had come back from Soul Society alive. Maybe Yamamoto was growing soft in his old age, hm? In any case, it certainly worked in Shinji's favor – for now. Kurosaki had seemed to be a little concerned over the kid's physical condition, but from reports that Shinji had picked up, it sounded like the boy was doing just fine for himself.

Hell, even if it was only a small victory in the grand scheme of things, Shinji couldn't complain. He was going to take every goddamned little opening that Aizen gave him to bite back – and bite fucking _hard_. Aizen was still a punk kid in Shinji's mind; the little shit had underestimated all of them since day one, and Shinji wasn't about to let him get away with it.

Aizen wasn't entirely stupid, of course. Shinji had to stack his own deck favorably, and keep it quiet – there were still a lot of risks involved. Aizen had already noticed Ichigo, after all; that hadn't actually been in the original plan, but at least it had given Urahara a chance to gain the boy's trust. Urahara had been damned lucky the boy hadn't up and fucking _died _on them when that snot-nosed token noble brat captain had nearly taken him out so early on. Perhaps it had been a fortunate turn of events in the end, but Urahara had almost been too goddamned late to take advantage of it. Their plans lay in a very delicate balance, after all – one small slip-up could make things a hell of a lot more difficult. They'd already invested a lot in this plan.

Shinji watched, trying to school his bored expression as he watched Isshin's boy spar with Hiyori. As much as the girl's fiery temper made her seem like an absolute beast, she had taken a liking to Ichigo – after all, there weren't many people she'd invest so much time pounding into the ground again and again like that just to get a point across. Most people just got pounded into the ground once, and then were ignored.

Maybe it was just because Ichigo got up again and again, and Shinji was pretty sure Hiyori hadn't encountered many shinigami with the kind of fortitude it took to keep taking a beating just to gain power. Except maybe Isshin. ... Ichigo was _definitely_ Isshin's kid.

And to think, this was only the beginning.

_So, Kurosaki... Where will you take us from here?_

* * *

_**finis?**_

* * *

**notes:**

_I actually did a decent amount of research for the cha-no-yu (Japanese tea ceremony) setting. However, I have to admit that I totally bs'd the chabana (tea ceremony flower arrangement) itself, because I had a bit of a hard time finding decent information on meanings behind flowers used in these arrangements. Minor details, I know, but I'm a dork and tried to make it right anyway? Feel free to point out errors if you see any, because I certainly am no expert._

_Also, ask away if you have any other questions, because I honestly can't remember if there's anything else I might need to put notes here for._

* * *

_Finished for this story, at least. (Geez! Finally!) More to come, if I actually get off my lazy butt to write them! If you haven't already noticed, I've started calling this an arc – which does indeed come with a giant plot of doom! (tm) attached. ... I hope. __Please forgive the mistakes – plot-wise and technical – that I'm pretty sure are chilling out in this chapter. I haven't really had it looked over, and I'm too tired to do it myself now, but I wanted to get this UP and OUT of my HAIR._

_Why yes, I did incorporate parts of Bleach-108 into this, as it came out just as I was finally getting around to the grindwork on this chapter. I'm just hoping I did it well enough to make it all _work_. Somehow. If you know what happened in the -108 side chapter, then you'll likely pick up some of the inferences I made?  
_

_... Err. Anyway. I'm extremely sorry for how long it took me to finally finish this; life and stuff just kept getting in the way. I meant to have this done by my birthday, but obvioulsy I didn't quite make it, as it's just now past midnight on April 3__rd__ my time. Hey, only three days off! At least I almost made my own deadline this time? Lol._

_I'd like to thank everyone who took the time and effort to read and comment on this so far; I can't tell you how much your words inspired me to finish this, even though I often felt like I wasn't doing Bleach any kind of justice. I really appreciate all your support, even if I didn't get around to actually replying to all the reviews (I'm sure I missed at least a handful – I really suck at this)!_

_Much love, peace out, and HOORAY IT IS FINISHED. Time to celebrate! 8D_

_... Until the next time!_


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